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E RAINBOW 




SAMUEL F 



.8th St., New Yorl 



THE RAINBOW 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS _J-J--^ 



AiW^HOMAS 



Copyright, 19 12, by A. E. Thomas 
Copyright, 1919, by Samuel French 



.III Rights Reserved 



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Act of March 4, 1909. 



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1 



To My Friend, 

HENRY MILLER 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Neil Sumner 

Edward Fellows His friend and lawyer 

William Mortimer His friend 

James Judson. His friend 

Nicholas Hollins His racing manager 

Bennett His butler 

John Carpenter Gilmore. . . .American Consul at 

Lyons 

Ruth Sumner Neil's mife 

Betsy Sumner. His sister 

Cynthia Sumner His daughter 

Jane Palmer 

Elsie Davis 

Therese, Cynthia's maid 

Act I. A room in Sumner's apartment on River- 
side Drive in New York City. 

Act II. A room in Sumner's home at Port Wash- 
ington, L. I. 

Act III. The Villa Marchese at Mentone. 

NOTE:.— The little French song that is sung by Cynthia 
in act II is called "Ca fait peur aux oiseaux". It 
may be purchased from Chas. H. Ditson of Ne\r 
York, or another may be substituted if desired. 



THE RAINBOW 

''The Rainbow" was first produced at the Liberty 
Theatre, New YorkCity in IMarch 4th, 19 12 w4th 
the following cast : 

Neil Sumner Henry Miller 

Edward Fellows Charles Hammond 

Nicholas Hollins.. Robert Stowe Gill 

William Mortimer H. Conway Wing field 

James Judson Effingham Pinto 

John Carpenter Gilmore Daniel Pennell 

Bennett George C. Pierce 

Ruth Sum ner Edith Barker 

Betsy Sumner Laura Hope Crews 

Cynthia Sumner Ruth Chatterton 

Jane Palmer Hope Latham 

Elsie Davis ...Ethel Martin 

Tiierese Ethel Lloyd 



THE RAINBOW 



ACT I. 

Scene: The main room in Sumner's apartment on 
Riverside Drive in New York City. It is an 
apartment that evidences wealth and cidtiva- 
iion on the. part of possessor. The main en- 
trance is through a large arch at c, hung with 
portieres. This opens into a spacious hallway 
and at back c. of the hall is seen a smaller 
arch and a sliding panelled door, leading into 
the cardroom. 

A door down stage l. leads into the gray 
room, and a door at r. leads into Neil's own 
room. At upper r. and running a little ob- 
liquely to the back walls is a large practical 
double zvindozu. This is draped zvith a pair 
of rich curtains and valence. The floor is cov- 
ered by a large Persian rug — leaving a good 
margin of the floor visible. At r. back, is a 
settee and at l. back, a large table. At -l. fac- 
ing the window opposite, is a desk and cabinet. 
The scene is obliqued here also. At r. and l. 
above doors are handsome bookcases on which 
are set some beautifid ornaments. Over the 
bookcases and table and settee at back, are 
hung oil paintings. The walls are tapestry 
covered. A smaller rug is placed before the 
desk at L. zvith a single chair in front of it. 
Large carved wood armchairs are R. and l. 
by the bookcases. A chair is below both doors 
R. and L. A round table is set r. of c. zmth 



S THE RAINBOW 

chairs at side and at back. A large lamp 
stands behind table. On the top of the cab- 
inet is set a bronzed statuette of a lion. Thf 
desk shows a pair of rich desk lamps lighted 
at rise, also handsome writing set, and a golden 
framed miniature is placed at lower l. of desk. 
The table at back is covered by a long scarf 
and a tray with syphon, whiskey bottle and sev- 
eral glasses filled with ice — which Bennett 
makes up into highballs. On the wall at r. 
of arch are placed buttons — one of which op- 
erates the lights, and the other calls the ser- 
vants. When the curtains on the window are 
ivithdrawn a box of blooming hyacinths is seen 
outside the window and, opposite, the sugges- 
gestion of a neighboring house. 

When the curtain rises the curtains are 
drawn, shutting out the moonlight. The room 
is dark except for the lighted lamps on the 
desk. A dim light is seen in the hall. The 
cardroom at rear is brightly lighted showing a 
card table with four players seated around. 
The hour is about three of a morning early in 
May, and there are many evidences of a long 
night of card playing that is just drawing to a 
close. The men are noisily finishing a rubber 
and the air is heavy with the smoke from their 
cigars and cigarettes. Judson is seated at back 
of table in his shirt-sleeves. Fellows is l. of 
table — Mortimer r. of table and below table 
with his back to audience is seated Neil Sum- 
ner. Bennett is seen at upper l. of the main 
room concocting highballs. The four players 
are chatting noisily until the curtain is zvell 
up. 

Judson. Well, I can't help it, old man. I 
couldn't tell where the ten of clubs lay. 



THE RAINBOW 9 

Mortimer. Ten of clubs nothing! What the 
devil was the use of opening up clubs anyhow, 
when you couldn't control *em ! 

Fellows. Better own up, Juddy. He's got the 
goods on you. 

JuDSON. {Dealing the cards) Goods be damned! 
If I only had a drink. Where the deuce is Ben- 
nett, anyhow? I'm as dry as a temperance speech. 
(Sings) 

"Oh, give us a drink, bartender, bartender, 
For we love you as you know. 
And if you will oblige us, 
With another drink or so. 
We want no wine of a foreign vintage " 

Mortimer. Oh, shut up, Juddy. I am saddest 
when you sing. 

JuDSON. All right then — I'll make it no trumps. 

Fellows. I'll pass. 

JuDSON. (Rising) Oh you Bennett — Bennett! 

(Bennett carries a tray zvith highball glasses upon 
it into the room) 

Bennett. Coming, sir, coming! (Serves Jud- 
SON and Fellows first, then crosses and serves 
Mortimer and Sumner) 

Mortimer. Here's Bennett at last! 
JuDSON. Bennett, my preserver, my life pre- 
server ! 

Bennett. Very sorry, sir. Very sorry. 

JuDSON. All right, Bennett. But don't do it 
again. 

Bennett. (Coming out) No, sir, certainly not, 
sir. (As he passes into the inner room and places 
his tray on the table, the outside doorbell rings. 



lo THE RAINBOW 

Rennett crosses to table r. c. and lights the lamp, 
then goes up and shuts the door into the card room 
and goes out at R. rear. After a pause returns with 
Mrs. Palmer, a modish young woman of thirty- 
five or so — clever, a hit worn, and with a gift for 
sarcasm. — a woman of no illusions and fezv scruples. 
Mrs. Palmer comes to chair l. of table. Bennett 
crosses up to l. of arch and pulls the cord bringing 
the curtains together) 

Bennett. I'll speak to Mr. Sumner at once, 
Mrs. Palmer. He's expecting you, I believe. 

Mrs. Palmer. Very good — and Bennett 

Bennett. Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. Palmer. Just look after my maid, will 
you? While she's waiting for me. 

Bennett. Certainly, ma'am, certainly. 

Mrs. Palmer. Thanks, Bennett. (He goes out. 
Mrs. Palmer crosses to l. and looks at the minia- 
ture on the desk. The door into card room is 
heard to open; the hum of voices is heard and the 
door closes. Then Neil enters through curtains at 

Neil. Ah, Jane! How are you. {They shake 
hands) 

Mrs. Palmer. And how are you, Neil? 

Neil. Tm able to sit up. 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes — I see you're sitting up. 

Neil. Well, now what can we do for you? 
We've some very rare bargains imported at great 
expense from the 

Mrs. Palmer. No, I'm not buying tonight. I've 
come to get something for nothing. 

Neil. You're in the wrong- shop. Now there's 
a store just around the corner 

Mrs. Palmer. No, I'm in the right shop. Look 
here, Neil, it's clear enough that something out of 
ordinary has brought me here, isn't it ? 

Neil. Why 



THE RAINBOW it 

Mrs. Palmer. Of course it is. I'm sorry to 
spoil your card party but 

Neil. Oh, that's all right. I'm dummy just 
now anyhow. Fire away! {They sit down) 

Mrs. Palmer. I don't know if you remember 
Dolly Winter! 

Nt:iL. Winter, Winter? Oh, yes, pleasing little 
blonde person. What became of her? 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, fact is, Dolly's in a bad 
fix. That's why I 'phoned you at this hour of the 
night. She's been prowling the street all night with 
her trouble. I haven't seen her in weeks but 
finally she got so desperate she rang me up just 
as I got home from supper after the theatre. I 
soon found out you're the only man who can help 
her, so I 'phoned you at once. 

Neil. I ? 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, you. Oh, I know it means 
very little to you but it means a frightful lot to 
her and — well, it's this — I suppose you knew about 
Dolly and Nick Hollins 

Neil. Oh, I may have had a notion 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, a few months ago Dolly 
met a boy from her home town. He was crazy 
about her, and always had been, he told her, and 
she seems to think he's about all there is in life — 
at any rate she married him. He's a broker's clerk, 
down the street, somewhere — at twenty-five a week. 

Neil. Think of that. Twenty-five a week and 
she loves him. Wonderful ! 

Mrs. Palmer. So she says and I guess it's true. 

Neil. Well, well, this sounds like sincere de- 
votion. 

Mrs. Palmer. Doesn't it? Well, there she sat 
in my dressing room telling me her miserable story 
and weeping her heart out — I suppose she'd have 
been a little surprised to know that I rather envied 
her. 



12 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. Why, Jane? 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, anyhow, she quit Nick and 
married this boy and they went to Uve in some 
dinky Httle flat up in Harlem, somewhere so far 
north that the vegetation is stunted. 

Neil. Yes, I know — you have to take the Al- 
bany night boat to get there. Well, I suppose she 
didn't tell her husband what she had been doing — 
about Nick, I mean. 

Mrs. Palmer. No. 

Neil. And now he's found out. 

Mrs. Palmer. No — that's the point; she's 
deathly afraid he will. 

Neil. But how? 

Mrs. Palmer. It's Nick — some how he found 
out where she went and came to see her day before 
yesterday. He's got some letters of hers, three of 
them, she says. She says they'd look pretty bad 
if her husband were to see them. 

Neil. I see. And Nick is holding them over 
her head — is that it? 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes. He said if she didn't come 
back to him in three days — that's tomorrow — he'd 
send the letters to her husband. 

Neil. H'm — pretty idea 

Mrs. Palmer. Charming. 

Neil. Why will they write letters? D'you 
know, I think it's quite a mistake to teach women 
to write at all. (She laughs) 

Mrs. Palmer. Or men either. (Neil laughs) 
Well, now, you practically keep Nick Hollins going, 
don't you? 

Neil. Well 

Mrs. Palmer. Anyhow, he'd hate like sin to lose 
the salary you pay him. I know that. 

Neil. Tell me, did she tell Nick how she felt 
about this young man? 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, so she says — ^but Nick told 



THE RAINBOW 13 

her she'd get sick of this boy soon and that she was 
a fool not to see it. Maybe he's right. But I 
don't know. It sort of seemed to me that she 
ought to have a chance to run straight, especially 
since there's nothing to prevent it except a pup 
like Holhns. 

Neil. Where is she now? 

Mrs. Palmer. Dolly? Oh, she didn't seem to 
think she could tell you about it herself, so I left 
her at home having hysterics. 

Neil. Poor little girl, poor little girl. {He 
rises and rings the bell) 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, it's pretty tough ! 

Neil. Just tell her to go home to bed. Tell her 
that I say it will be all right. 

Mrs. Palmer. Ah, you'll do it, won't you? 

Neil. Leave it to me. She shall have those 
letters tomorrow afternoon. 

Mrs. Palmer. Don't bother about that. Just 
burn them up yourself. 

Neil. Are you sure you can trust me? 

Mrs. Palmer. Trust you — you ! Why Neil, 
you dear old boy. What funny noises you do make. 

Neil. Oh, well — (Enter Bennett) Oh, Ben- 
nett, telephone to the Turf Club. If Mr. HoUins 
is there ask him to take a taxi and run over here 
right away. If he's not there telephone his apart- 
ment. Say it's imperative. 

Bennett. Shall I wake him up, sir? 

Neil. Oh, he won't be in bed. He's the original 
night-watchman. 

Bennett. Very well, sir. (Goes out) 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, I'll be off with the good 
news. (She shakes hands with Neil) I knew 
you'd do it . 

Neil. Do it. Good God! I am not quite a 

Mrs. Palmer. No, you're not and that's a fact, 
beast. 



14 THE RAINBOW 

And you may quote me as saying so to whom it 
may concern. 

Neil. Thank you, Jane, thank you. 

Mrs. Palmer. {Glancing about ratherwist fully) 
What a jolly place you've got here. 

Neil. Think so? 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, very. You know, Neil 

Neil. Yes? 

Mrs. Palmer. I don't think I'll say it. Thank 
you, and good-night. 

Neil. Good-night, Jane, good-night. {She gives 
him a lingerijig hand clasp and goes out. He stands 
thinking a moment. Door slam is heard and then 
he draws the curtains aside and enters the card 
room., just as Bennett comes back) Well, Jimmy, 
what did you do? 

JuDSON. {Rising) You'll be surprised. They 
made the odd. 

Neil. Surprised! I certainly am. Why, with 
all those hearts — ! Well, Bennett ? 

Bennett. I couldn't get Mr. Hollins, sir, but I 
left word at the Club and at the apartment. 

Neil. All right. 

{The players come noisily into the room. Mor- 
timer with score card in hand goes to the 
table, sits, then begins to add the score. Fel- 
lows follows Mortimer to oversee the ac- 
counting. As they enter, Bennett goes into 
the card room and turns off lights.) 

Mortimer. {Slaps Jimmy on shoulder) My 
dear Jimmy, you're the worst ever. 

Fellows. Jimmy, why didn't you finesse your 
Jack? You could have won the rubber. 

JuDSON. You're a great help to me. Besides, 
4he cards lay almost as badly as they could. 

Mortimer. They always do. 



THE RAINBOW 15 

Fellows. Yes, for Jimmy. 

{Enter Bennett from rear.) 

JuDSON. I say, Bennett, 'phone for a taxi, will 
you ? 

Bennett. Certainly, Mr. Judson. {Goes out) 

JuDSON. {To Mortimer, who has the score) 
Well, Mortimer, what's the awful total? 

Mortimer. There you are. Two-forty-five. 

JuDSON. Phew ! Two-forty-five. Wow ! I'll 
have to dine at Childs' for a month. 

Neil. Let's see. {Looks at score. To Mor- 
timer) Mm ! You did yourselves rather well, 
eh ? Billy — you and Ned ? 

Mortimer. Not so bad. 

Neil. I'll give you my check. (Goes to desk 
to zvrite a check) 

Mortimer. No hurr}^ 

Neil. What is that they say — In God we trust- 
all others must— write checks. 

JuDSON. I hate v/riting checks. They always 
bob up just when you've forgotten all about 'em. 
(Takes wallet from pocket) 

Fellows. Yes, like w^ild oats. 

Neil. {Writing) Or people you used to like 
when you wxre young and didn't know any better. 

JuDSON. {Counting out the cash) W^ell, there's 
a century. {Pretends to kiss it) Farewell, sweet 
one — and two fifties ; good-bye little dears, and 
two twenties, au revoir, merry companions- and 
five ones. Scat, you brutes! (Puts on his over- 
coat and hat, and takes cane from settee at back, 
Mortimer rises also) 

Fellows. What's my share of the 1 )ot^ 

Mortimer. {Consulting the score) Three-seT- 
enty-five. 

Fellows. {Scooping up the cash) All right. 



i6 THE RAINBOW 

I'll take this. You can send me 3^our check for the 
balance. 

Mortimer First thing in the morning, Ned? 
{Neil gives him a check) 

JuDSON. (Attempting a joke) Well, I've had 
a pleasant evening; all the same, if Fm found a 
gory suicide in the morning, you'll know who's to 
— (Fellows pinches his elbow warningly, and 
Mortimer looks daggers at him. Neil alone 
smiles, though rather wanly) Oh, I say — {To 
Neil) I am sorry. I didn't mean to say that. 
Oh, I am a damned old fool. I 

Neil. {Goes to Judson and puts his arm over 
his shoulder) Jimmy, it's all right. I don't mind 
— really don't think of it again. It's all rig^ht. 

(Bennett appears.) 

Bennett. Your taxi, Mr. Judson. {Exits) 

Mortimer. Get a wiggle, Jimmy. Can't you 
see Ned's got something on his chest. If we don't 
beat it, he'll keep Neil up all night. 

Neil. Oh, you chaps needn't hurr}^ It isn't 
so late. 

Judson. No, it's getting earlier every minute. 
{Looks at his watch) Gee! And I've got to be 
at the office at ten. 

Neil. Oh, well, you'll be snoring at three-thirty. 

Mortimer. Yes, and swearing at eight. 

Neil. Have a night-cap before you go. 

Mortimer. No, thanks. I don't wear 'em. 

Judson. Not me. Fm sufficiently balmy as it 
is. 

Mortimer. {To Neil) And, by the way, don't 
forget, Fm coming for you with the car at noofi^ 
and we'll lunch at the track. 

Neil. Who's in the party? 



THE RAINBOW 17 

Mortimer. Oh, Mrs. Palmer. 

Neil. Mr. Palmer, too.'^ 

Mortimer. (U^ith a grin) Yes. Thought I'd 
give the old chap a treat. 

Neil. Good — good. 

Mortimer. And er — Elsie Davis. 

Neil. {With a zvhistle of gay dismay) Phew! 
Elsie Davis, eh? Well, really old fellow 

Mortimer. Oh, your reputation will stand it, 
eh, Jimmy? 

JuDSON. Ha, ha! I should say so. He ought 
to be delighted. Elsie's no end of fun. 

Neil. So she is. Poor little chick. So she is. 
See you at noon, then. (Mortimer starts to go) 
And bring along your roll. Tierney tells me King 
Pepper is just on edge and bound to win his start. 

iloRTiMER. It listens good to me. Bye-bye. 

Neil. Good-night. Bye-bye, Jimmy. 

JuDSON. Couldn't you give a poor old man ten 
cents for a bed ? 

Neil. Get out, you rascal. 

Mortimer. Oh, come along, Jimmy, or I'll make 
you pay for the taxi. (Goes out) 

JuDSON. (In much dismay) My God! Wait a 
minute. Here — I say! (Claps on his hat and es- 
capes from the room on the run. A momentary 
pause and the outside door is heard to slam) 

Neil. Ha, ha ! Good fellow% Jimmy. 

Fellows. Yes. He'll do. (They sit down) 

Neil. Yes, Jimmy's all right, but a little thought- 
less sometimes, eh? 

Fellows. That zvas rather clumsy of him. 

Neil. Oh, I don't mind. It's an old story. But 
sometimes I get to feeling a little sorry for myself. 
I suppose we all have those moments. I couldn't 
keep my wife's brother from shooting himself in 
my house, after losing at cards to me. 

Fellows. Oh, vou don't have to tell me that. 



i8 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. I know it. But it does me good. I 
couldn't get out of playing with him even though 
I had promised Ruth not to do it. When you've 
won big money from a man and he demands satis- 
faction — well, what can you do? 

Fellows. Nothing but give it to him. 

Neil. And it was one of those times when I 
simply couldn't lose. It was the very devil, and 
Ruth 

Fellows. She couldn't see any excuse for you. 

Neil. Not an atom. Of course, all the news- 
paper row aggravated the mess, and the fact that 
Hanford recovered didn't in the least palliate my 
offense in her eyes. I had promised her not to 
play again with her brother and I had done it. That 
was enough. 

Fellow^s. I saw her today. 

Neil. Who? 

Fellows. Why Ruth of course. 

Neil. Ruth — here ? 

Fellows. Didn't you know it ? 

Neil. No. 

Fellows. Why, I thought of course you knew. 

Neil. Never heard a word of it. What brings 
her here, I wonder? 

Fellows. She got in yesterday on the Provence, 
telephoned me toda}' — wanted to see me about some 
of her business affairs, and I called at her hotel. 

Neil. Is — is she well? 

Fellow^s. Oh, yes, very. But this is what's 
on my mind. I think I ought to tell her. 

Neil. Tell her? 

Fellows. I mean about her brother. 

Neil. Oh, for heaven's sake, why did up that 
old affair? 

Fellows. I think she ought to know. 

Neil. After ten years? What on earth's the 
use? 



THE RAINBOW 19 

Fellows. Oh, it was easy enough to keep her 
in the dark as long as she stayed in France and you 
kept on paying the interest on the money her 
brother stole from her estate but if she stays here 
long she's sure to find out about it somehow. 

Neil. Nonsense. Who's going to tell her ? No- 
body knows. 

Fellows. And then it's all so confoundedly un- 
fair to you. Here she goes on seeing in her rascally 
brother merely an unfortunate well-meaning victim 
of chance and you — while all the time he robbed 
her of over $200,000 and you foot the bill. Fm 
damned sorry you ever interfered. You ought to 
have let him take his medicine. 

Neil. Oh, dry up, Ned, dry 

Fellows. But it's not fair — it's not just — it's 
not 

Neil. Oh stop it, Ned, stop it. What good will 
it do to tell Ruth that her brother is a crook and a 
sv/indler as well as a gambler. If she hadn't got a 
legal separation with the custody of the little girl, 
if there were still any chance for me, I mean, it 
might be different, but as it is, come — come, old 
man, don't go and start anything after all those 
years. 

Fellows. Well, of course, I can't if you won't 
let me, but as your lawyer and hers, I think it's 
mighty bad business and as your friend 

Neil. Oh, I'll take all the responsibility. So 
let it go at that. And tell me, now, did you — did 
you see Cynthia? 

Fellows. Oh, yes, I saw her. You — you'd 
scarcely know her now. 

Neil. No — no — I suppose I shouldn't. 

Fellows. She's almost a woman now, you 
know, 

Neil. Almost a woman — yes, of course, she 
must be. (Rises) Just a second please. (Goes 



20 THE RAINBOW 

into his room, speaks from there) I've got some- 
thing here I want to show you. {Returns with a 
little photograph in an ivory frame) Here's a por- 
trait of the child, taken when she was six years 
old. {Gives it to Fellows) Tell me, is she utterly 
changed — or is there some — some likeness left? 

Fellows. {Looking at the portrait) Oh, the 
resemblance is there. 

Neil. {Pleased) Is it? 

Fellows. Oh, yes, but of course, there are 
changes. Do you know your daughter's grown 
into an unusually pretty girl? 
Neil. Has she now? 

Fellows. Very slender, very dainty, yery rose- 
like. 

Neil. Is she, now? {Takes photograph and slips 
it back into his pocket) 

Fellows. But of course, you'll soon see for 
yourself. 

Neil. I'm afraid not. 
Fellow^s. Why not? 
Neil. I'm afraid. 
Fellows. Afraid. 

Neil. Yes — ah, well, it's a queer w^orld. I 
don't see how J could have acted differently. All 
the same, it's put a devilish big crimp in my life, 
first and last; I was really fond of her — and of the 
little girl — and — well, I haven't done m^^self much 
good and I — I've been pretty lonely. 

Fellows. She was pretty hard on you, old man, 
and that's a fact. 

Neil. Oh, v/ell, I suppose it's one of those 
things that a woman can't tmderstand. 
Fellows. Theie are such things. 
Neil. {With a little smile) Yes, a few. Ned, 
it's a devil of a life that most of us are leading. 
Fellow^s. It is, for a fact. 
Neil. Yesterday, I met old Underwood, out for 



THK RAINBOW' 21 

lii.s afternoon constitutional — just as T have met 
him for years. Always as neat as a pin, clothes 
perfection, a fresh gardenia in his buttonhole, mani- 
cured, tailored, booted and barbered, year by year 
getting a little plumper, a little balder, a little more 
sallow, a little more wheezy, a little more selfish 
year after year. Some morning his valet will call 
him for his bath at nine o'clock as usual — and— 
well — he won't wake up. Hm ! — I wonder if there 
isn't anything more in life than that. 

Fellows. My dear Neil, surely you don't com- 
pare yourself with 

Neil. With old Underwood — sallow old Under- 
wood? Yes, I do — in a way. Year after year — 
on we go with our cards and oin- races and our 
Jane Palmers and our Elsie Davises, our theatres, 
our opera, our restaurants, and all our hectic frivol 
and froth, and what do we get — little more wheezy, 
a little more sallow, a little more selfish, year after 
year, and some morning our valets — well, I don't 
quite see myself ending like that 

Fellow^s. Gad ! I should hope not. 

Neil. Somehow, I've a wish that my last nap 
shall be taken back on the farm — up in the Berk- 
shires somewhere — somewhere near the soil from 
which my people sprang. 

Fellows. Well — it would be better than the 
dismal finish you've sketched out for old Under- 
wood. 

Neil. Yes, it would — somewhat — There'd be 
some dogs to miss me. anyhow. 

(Bell rings.) 

Fellows. (As they both rise) Well, I must be 
off. (Goes lip to the settee for his coat and hat) 
Neil. Let me get you a taxi. 
Fellows. Nothing of the sort. It's only' half 



22 THE RAINBOW 

a dozen blocks. I'll sleep better for the walk. 

{Enter Hollins. He is a man of the world, clever, 
almost brilliant, unscrupulous, unlucky, dis- 
satisfied, deservedly disappointed and unreas- 
onably envious of people more happy than 
himself.) 

Hollins. Hello, Fellows. 
Neil and Fellows. Hello, Nick. 
Hollins. How're you, Neil. 
Fellows. Well, you make your calls late. 
Neil. Yes, Nick opens the town up every morn- 
ing before he goes to bed. 

Fellow^s. Well, bye-bye you chaps. 
Neil and Hollins. Good-night, etc. 

{Exit Fellows. The door slams lightly after him.) 

Neil. Sit down, Nick. 

Hollins. (Sitting) Sure I will, if I can have 
a drink. 

Neil. As many as you like. 

Hollins. Oh, no, I can't hold that many. I've 
tried. But what the devil's up? 

Neil. (Comes down to table — gives Nick the 
drink) Better take your drink now. (Nick about 
to drink — hesitates) You may not want it later. 
(Hollins looks puzzled, then gidps down the whis- 
key) 

Hollins. Well, I've got that anyhow. Blaze 
away. 

Neil.. {Sits) Nick, you have osme letters. I 
want them. 

Hollins. Letters? 

Neil. From Dolly Winter. 

Hollins. Well, upon my soul ! 

Neil. You are to bring them to me at eleven 



THE RAINBOW 25 

a'clock tomorrow morning. 

HoLLiNS. See here, Neil, have you lost your 
mind? 

Neil. I think not. 

HoLLiNS. Damned if I ever heard the Hke. 

Neil. Nick, bluffs don't go. I know exactly 
what you've done, and it's got to stop. 

HoLLiNS. Has that little hussy been running to 
you? If she has I'll 

Neil. Now, don't be ridiculous. Whatever you 
were going to say, you won't do it. 

HoLLiNS. All right, then. You know so much. 
I suppose I may ask you what you know. 

Neil. Certainly. You threatened to go to her 
husband w^ith certain information. 

HoLLiNS. Oh, I did, did I ? And you're going to 
take the word of tliis little fly-by-night against 
mine? 

Neil. Yes, if you deny it. You see, Nick, I 
happen to know you pretty well. 

HoLLiNS. I see. I'm a devil, and you. in your 
new character of saint, are going to administer jus- 
tice. Is that it? 

Neil. If you like. 
HoLLiNS. Well, of course, the girl's lied to 
you. 

Neil. Can you suggest a motive? (A pause) 
All she asks it to be let alone. 

HoLLiNS. Well, what are you going to do about 
it? 

Neil. You admit the letters? 

HoLLiNS. I daresay I've got some letters. 
Haven't you? 

Neil. At eleven o'clock tomorrow morning, then. 

HoLLiNS. Look here, Neil, of course, this is all 
too absurd for words. But let me tell you just the 
same, that I resent your interference. Who the 
devil are you, I should like to know, to pass judg- 



.24 THE RAINBOW 

ment on me? I'd have you know that it comes 
\yith mighty bad grace from you — you — in a hoUer- 
than-thou attitude. Pah! If you could only 
see yourself. (Rising and facing Neil) I 
tell 3'ou, it's no affair of yours. 

Neil. (Rising) And I tell you I make it my 
aft'air. (A pause. The tzvo men confront each 
other) See here, Nick, do you want to quarrel 
with me? 

HoLLiNS. (His eyes dropping from the encoun- 
ter) Why, of course not. Only this absurd affair — 

Neil. I thought not. It wouldn't pay you, 
would it? V\>11, then, those letters at eleven 
o'clock tomorrow morning. And Dolly and her 
George are ne\^er to hear from you in any way 
whatever. I mean that in its broadest sense. No 
evasions. If she comes to grief through you I shall 
be forced to get a new racing manager, and there 
will be no more of those little advances with w^hich 
you never seem to catch up. Do I make myself 
clear ? 

HoLLiNS. {Taking his hat from table) Excep- 
tionally. But I must say — well, what's the use, you 
know. He'll find her out just the same 

Neil. Well, one thing's sure — w^e w^on't help 
him. Have another drink. 

HoLLiNS. No, thanks. 

Neil. Then, good-night. The letters at eleven, 
and don't send them. Bring them. 

HoLLiNS. Oh, they'll be here. And much good 
may they do her. And it is with deep emotion that 
I turn my back upon the charming scene where vir- 
tue has triumphed and vice been overwhelmed. 

Neil. (With irony) Be a man, Nick. Don't 
give way. 

HoLLiNS. Ha! (IVith a sneer he goes out. A 
pause and door slam is heard) 



THE RAINBOW 25 

(Neil takes the child's photograph from his pocket 
and looks at it. Enter Bennett at rear, and 
begins to set the room to rights.) 

Neil. Oh, never mind all that till morning, Ben- 
nett. Go to bed. Sorry to have kept yt^u up so 
late. 

Bennett. Oh, that's all right, sir. You're not 
home often of an evening nowadays, sir. 

Neil. No, that's true. (Goes to the door of his 
room) \\'ell, don't call me until eleven. 

Bennett. No, sir, at eleven, sir. 

Neil. And, before you go, suppose you open a 
window. This place needs a little sweetening up. 
Good-night. (He goes into his room) 

Bennett. Good-night, sir. (He goes to the 
ivindozv, draws the curtain, opens the window. The 
' szveet night air steals in gently lifting the side-cur- 
tains. The butler then takes the glasses and ash- 
troy from the table, goes to the hall, turns off the 
hall-light and disappears. The curtain falls on the 
room lighted only by the moonlight from the win- 
dow. When the curtain rises one minute later, it 
shows the same room flooded with morning sun- 
shine. A little R. of c. is a small table set for break- 
fast for one. Bennett hovers about the table busy 
-with tJie last touches. A moment later Hollins 
coiiics in from the hall) 

Hollins. Well, Bennett, you old rascal, how 
do you hnd yourself? 

Bennett. I'm as well as could be expected, Mr. 
Hollins, and I hope you're well, sir. 

Hollins. (Sitting by the table) Oh, yes, yes. 
I'm well. There's nothing in the other thing. I've 
tried it. We're breakfasting rather late today, 
what? 

Bennett. (Resenting this remark a bit) That's 
all accordin' as you look at it, sir. 



20 THE RAINBOW 

HoLLiNS. Haven't you heard that it's the early 
bird that catches the worm ? 

Bennett. I have, sir, many's the time. 

HoLLiNS. Yes — so have I, but the proverb 
never impressed me much. You see, Bennett, I 
don't happen to have a taste for worms. No more, 
I take it, has your master. Well, it's almost eleven, 
so suppose you go and route him out. 

Bennett. I hardly like to do that, sir. But per- 
haps he's stirring already. It sometimes happens 
that he's up when I go in to call him. {Listens at 
door) Yes, sir, I think he's up already. 

HoLLiNS. (Rising and taking a long sealed en- 
velope from his pocket) Oh, is he? Well, if you 
don't mind, Bennett — hand him this. (Bennett 
receives envelope then goes to door. Bennett 
knocks on his master's door just as the door-hell 
is heard to ring) 

Neil. (Off stage) Come in, Bennett, come in. 

(Bennett enters the bed room as Betsy Sumner 
enters at c. Betsy Sumner's sister, is some 
ten years younger than he. She is rather a 
brisk, humorous person, kindly, but shrewd, 
with few illusions. Her heart is big, but it 
doesn't prevent her keen brain from seeing 
the faults of those she loves. She is fond of 
her brother, but tempers her fondness with 
strong disapproval of much that he does. She 
dislikes Hollins exceedingly, and is at little 
pains to conceal it.) 

Hollins. Ah, good morning, Miss Sumner. 

Betsy. (Coldly) Good morning, Mr. Hollins. 

Hollins. I'll warrant you didn't hope to find 
me here. 

Betsy. (Sitting at the table) Hope is hardly 
the word. 



THE RAINBOW 27 

HoLLiNS. Well, you're no more surprised than 
I. One doesn't often see Miss Sumner at her 
brother's house. 

Betsy. (Acidly) Oh, doesn't oneF 

HoLLiNS. Not this one. And it's rather a pity,, 
too. I think you'd like him if you knew him better. 

Betsy. So ? 

HoLLiNS. (Mockingly) Yes. I assure you, he's 
really not at all a bad sort. 

Betsy. Mr. Hollins, I don't know that your opin- 
ion on that point seems to me so vei-y valuable. 

Hollins. Well, it ought to be. I know him very 
well. 

BtlTSy. While he doesn't know you at all well. 

HoLi.iNS. Oh, but he does. 

Betsy. He can't — or he wouldn't have you about 
so much. 

Hollins. Mm ! You are in a nasty mood to- 
day. 

Betsy. Not at all. I'm feeling particularly 
cheerful. At least I was until — — 

Hollins. Until you saw me, eh ? 

Betsy. I didn't say it. But I wouldn't think of 
contradicting you. 

Hollins. No. You wouldn't think of it. You'd 
iust do it. Well, you're just like all the other 
reformers. 

Betsy. I'm no reformer. 

Hollins. No? 

Betsy. I never reformed anybody in my life. 

Hollins. No. Reformers never do — that's 
why I call you one. 

Betsy. (Rising) If I were I should begin with 
you. 

Hollins. With me? 

Betsy. Yes. I'm an ambitious woman, and you 
— vou're about the hardest case I know. 



2S THE RAINBOW 

HoLLiNS. I told 3'ou you didn't know your own 
Brother very well. 

Betsy. {Pointedly) I should know him a great 
deal better if there weren't a lot of good-for-noth- 
ings always hanging about whenever I try to see 
him. 

HoLLiNS. {Seeing the point, gives himself a 
burlesque blow on the chin as though he had been 
hit hard, then reaches for his watch) Whereupon, 
our astute young hero, consulting his chronometer, 
suddenly exclaimed: "By Jove, I've an appoint- 
ment. Clean forgot all about it. Fair lady, will 
you pardon me if I run away?" 

Betsy. To which the lady replied sweetly : "With 
the greatest of pleasure." 

HoLLiNS. {Angry, but bowing elaborately) In 
that case good-morning. 

Betsy. {Tartly) In that case, good-bye. (Hol- 
LiNs goes out with a sardonic smile. Betsy sits 
with exclamation of disgust) Insect ! 

(Bennett comes out of his master's rooju.) 

Bennett. Good morning. Miss Betsy. 

Betsy. Good morning, Bennett. 

Bennett. Mr. Neil will be out directly, Miss 
Betsy. 

Betsy. All right. 

Bennett. Has Mr. HoUins gone? 

Betsy. He has, Bennett. Do you regret it? 

Bennett. Not the least in the world, ma'am. 

Betsy. Nor /. I don't care if he never comes 
back. 

Bennett. But he will, ma'am. 

Betsy. I suppose so. 

Bennett. He always does. 

Betsy. Drat him ! 

Bennett. I'm of the some opinion, ma'am. 



THE RAINBOW 29 

(Enter Neil at r. He is perfectly dressed in a 
highly becoming morning suit, is evidently just 
bathed and shaved and looks as fresh and 
debonair as you please.) 

Neil. (Goes to Betsy and kisses her hand) 
My dear Betsy. I'm delighted. 

Betsy. Thank you, Neil. 

Neil. Delighted, charmed and astounded ! But 
where's Hollins? I thought Bennett said ■ 

Betsy. He's gone. 

Neil. Gone ! 

Betsy. Yes, I built a bonfire under him. 

Neil. Built a bonfire under him. Why, how 
inhospitable of you ! 

Betsy. I all but ejected the brute. 

Neil. Ejected — well, well, you don't come here 
very often. When you do, you may do as you like. 
Now, how's that? 

Betsy. That's as it should be. 

Neil. Mayn't I offer you some breakfast? 

Betsy. Breakfast ! It's almost time for lunch. 

Sumner. (Sitting) You do keep barbarous 
hours, don't you ? 

Betsy. I ! No, I live like a human being — not 
like an owl. (She sits opposite him) 

Neil. (Attacking the grape-fruit) The owl is 
the bird of wisdom. But be that as it may — and 
probably is — you won't mind if I 

Betsy. Certainly not. You eat and I'll talk. 
In that way each of us will be enjoying his favorite 
sport. 

Neil. Well, m.y dear sis, I don't suppose you 
came here just for the sake of observing me at my 
breakfast pranks ? 

Betsy. I did not. 

Neil. Then to what do I owe this unusual pleas- 
ure ? 



30 THE RAINBOW 

Betsy. I came to bring you some news. 

Neil. I know — about Ruth's return? 

Betsy. You've heard? 

Neil. I heard last night. I suppose you've 
known for some time. You might have told me. 

Betsy. Yes — but there didn't seem to be any 
use in stirring things up. 

Neil. Yes, that's true. Of course you've seen 
her. 

Betsy. Yes — I've just left her. 

Neil. How is she — well? 

Betsy. Oh, yes. 

Neil. And — happy ? 

Betsy. Well, are you? 

Neil. My dear Betsy, there you open a large 
question. What is happiness. If by happiness you 
mean 



Betsy. Heavens ! I've pressed a button some- 
where, and it's going to make a speech. 

Neil. There you see! You complain that I'm 
frivolous and when I try to be serious 

Betsy. You're more frivolous than ever. 

Neil. I know what's the matter with you. 

Betsy. Oh, do you ? 

Neil. Nothing annoys a woman so much as to 
have someone else get ahead of her with a piece 
of news. 

Betsy. Well, I can at least tell you how she 
looks. She's getting a little gray. 

Neil. Is she? Well, she was always candid — 
I'll say that for her. 

Betsy. Will nothing make you serious? 

Neil. My dearest sis, would you like me better 
that way? 

Betsy. Honestly, I don't know. 

Neil. Because I don't believe you would. And 
anyhow, I can't do it. Life's a sort of joke anyway 
and it's on us. And the devil flv awav with a man 



THE RAINBOW 31 

who can't laugh at his own expense. Just con- 
sider the case we're all in. We've got nothing to 
say about coming into this world, and less abouc 
leaving it. We're put here without as much as a 
"by your leave", and when we go we're not even 
asked if we're ready, and while we're suffered to 
stay someone pulls a string and we dance, some of 
us gracefully, some of us with the least grace in 
the world. (Bennett enters zvith tray, containing 
a small silver tray with coffee pot and milk pitcher 
and a covered dish with omelette) But dance we all 
must and do. Marionettes. Taht's Vv^hat we are, my 
dear sis, just marionettes— and, to a philosophic 
eye, vastly comic. (He has finished his grape-fruit) 
Bennett, what have you for this marionette to cat? 
Dancing makes him hungry. 

Bennett. Omelette a la Creole, Mr. Neil. (He 
serves it) 

Neil. Good. Mayn't I oft'er you a cup of 
coffee ? 

Betsy. No, thank 3'ou. You might make an- 
other speech. 

Neil. Suppose I did ? 

Betsy. Well — coft"ee always keeps me awake. 

Neil. Well, Bennett we'll excuse you. 

Bennett. Yes sir. (Goes out zvith tray) 

Neil. Well, then if you don't like my nonsense, 
suppose you give us some of your sense. (He at- 
tacks his omelette) 

Betsy. Very well. Now it's my turn to make 
a speech. 

Neil. Cries of ''Hear, Hear!" 

Betsy. Oh ! It's a very short one. 

Neil. Thunders of applause ! 

Betsy. It's this. You are about to receive a 
visit. 

Neil. You talk like a fortune teller. Is it a 
dark man coming with a bundle? 



32 THE RAINBOW 

Betsy. No, it's not a man. 

Neil. {Suddenly serious) You don't mean 
Ruth ? 

Bptsy. No. I mean Cynthia. 

Neil. What? 

B'-TfY. Yes. 

Neil. God bless my soul ! 

Betsy. I hope he will. 

Neil. She's coming to see me? 

Betsy. Yes. 

Neil. Here ? 

Betsy. Right here. 

Neil. (Rising and abandoning his breakfast) 
God bless my soul. 

Betsy. She's going to stay some time. 

Neil. Going to stay? 

Betsy. K you don't mind! 

Neil. Mind ! Mind ! Why — why — it's wonder- 
ful — and — and it's quite too kind of Ruth to think 
of it. (Faces about in excitement) 

Betsy. I don't think it was Ruth's idea. 

Neil. Whose then? Yours? 

Betsy. No. Cynthia's. 

Neil. Cynthia ! God bless the child. 

Betsy. Oh, do sit down. 

Neil. Certainly. (He sits) 

Betsy. You see, Neil, your daughter, it appears, 
has a mind of her own. 

Neil. Of course she has. She's my daughter. 

Betsy. Well, one morning over in France, she 
woke up to the fact that she had mislaid her father. 
She'd noticed other girls' fathers, and she got the 
queer idea that having fathers Vv^as rather nice. 
Then she began to wonder where hers was and why 
she never saw him. So she spoke to her mother 
about it. 

Neil. Rather awkward for Ruth, eh ! 

Betsy. It was. But the child wouldn't be put 



THE RAINBOW 33 

off. Nothing would do but she must see you with 
her own eyes. 
" Neil. God bless her! 

T^ETSv. \Vell the fact is, that she made such a 
fuss about it there was no resisting her. She 
would have it, and there w^as no end of it. "Of 
course", she said to her mother, "if I don't like 
him I don't have to stav " 

Neil. Kh? 

Betsy. ''But I've got to see him once anyhow. 
I've got to see him. He's the only daddy I'm ever 
going to have — and T want him." 
^' Neil. (Much affected) Bless the child ! Bless 
her. 

Betsy. And so, you see, she's here. 

Neil. Oh, Betsy, supposing she shouldn't like 
me — supposing my girl shouldn't like me. 

Betsy. Well, in that case, as she herself said, 
she needn't stay. 

Neil. (Sobered) No, that's true. I couldn't 
make her stay, could I ? 

Betsy. And, on the other hand, suppose yon 
shouldn't like her. 

Neil. (Rises) Like her! Like her! Whv, 
Betsy, she's mine ! My own. 

Betsy. Yes. So's my hair — but I don't like it. 

Neil. Oh ! My dear, sis, will nothing make you 
serious ? 

Betsy. Oh, so I'm the frivolous one now, eh? 
Well, let me tell you that nothing is further from 
my mind than frivolity. Do you realize that this 
is a very grave matter? 

Neil. What do you mean ? 

Betsy. What are you going to do with her? 

Neil. Do? Why, I'm going to get her the 
moon, if she wants it. 

Betsy. Poor man ! He doesn't realize what it 
means to have a dau<rhter. 



34 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. Well, he's a little out of practice, but he's 
W/illing to learn. Tell him. 

Betsy. My dear Neil, I'm your sister, and I'm 
fond of you, but, I'm not blind to your faults. 
You're not exactly the man I should choose to have 
the ordering of a young girl's life. And I tell 
you frankly that this is an experiment of which I 
do not wholly approve. 

Neil. Betsy ! 

Betsy. If I could have had my way, the child 
should have remained where she was — at any rate 
for a few more years. But, as I say, this child has 
a will of her own. She would see you. There was 
no such thing as keeping her away. So here she 
is. Yet it's a very dubious proceeding, and the out- 
come for good or evil rests entirely with you. 

Neil. I don't think I quite understand you. 

Betsy. Neil, the world is full of harpies, vul- 
tures, full of loathesome birds of prey. Many of 
them masquerade in brilliant plumage but beneath 
all their fine feathers they are loathsome still. Some 
of these sinister creatures you have long called your 
friends. 

Neil. (In protest) My dear Betsy! 

Betsy. In the shadow of their wings there lurks 
a deadly blight, lying in wait for youth, lying in 
wait for innocence. Neil, take care ! take care. 

Neil. Upon my word, you're positively tragic 
about it. 

Betsy. No — I'm only warning you. 

Neil. Warning me? Of what? 

Betsy. (Rising) Why, the first person I see 
when I come into this house this morning, is Nick 
Hollins — (Neil turns away disgustedly) Hollins, 
with a trail of broken homes and ruined happiness 
behind him. And last night, or the night before, I 
daresay it was Billy Mortimer, who lives by cards, 
or Jane Palmer with one disreputable divorce and a 



THE RAINBOW 3S 

vulgar marriage to a senile millionaire to her dis- 
credit, or Elsie Davis and her newspaper infamies 
or Clarence Williams and his international stage- 
door escapades, or 

Neil. My dear sis, you're pretty hard on me, 
aren't you? All my friends aren't like that, you 
know. They aren't my real friends at all. 

Betsy. Aren't they? Then all Eve got to say 
is, it's pretty hard to tell them apart. But Ell say 
no more 

Neil. Thank the Lord — — 



Betsy. — Only, take care. 

Neil. Take care! Of course I will. But here 
we are — wasting time chattering, and the child may 
be — by the way, when is she coming ? 

Betsy. (Looking at her watch) She ought to 
be here now. 

Neil. {Rings hell) Now, don't worry, sis. It's 
going to be all right. We'll get away from all this. 
We'll go down to the Port, you and the little girl, 
and I, just as soon as I can get the house opened. 
Shall we? 

Betsy. I think perhaps it would be best. 

Neil. Good. We'll go down to the Port and 
hear the birds sing and see the grass grow. That'll 
be fine, eh? God bless my soul, but it's going to 
be a splendid summer. (Bennett enters with tray 
to remove breakfast things) Bennett, clear away 
these breakfast things, and tell Farley to get the 
gray room ready. (Betsy exits into room l. as 
one who makes inspection, leaving door open) 
We're expecting a visitor. 

Beennett. {At table, placing dishes on tray) 
A visitor? 

Neil. Yes, Bennett, my daughter. 

Bennett. {Pleased) Lord! Mr. Neil ! 

Neil. Yes — yes — don't stand there staring. Look 



36 THE RAINBOW 

alive, man, look alive. (Betsy re-enters, leaving 
door open) She's due any minute. 

Bennett. I'll tell Farley, sir. 

Neil. (To his sister) Yes, we'll clear out of 
this. We'll just quit all this crowd and get out to 
the good old Port where everything is sweet and 
lovely like — like Cynthia. It's going to be all right. 
You'll see. You'll see. And Bennett see that the 
room is aired out well — and send out for some 
fresh flowers. 

Bennett. Yes, Mr. Neil, I'll attend to it. (Exit 
with tray and dishes as soon as possible — leaving 
table cleared of everything) 

Neil. If I'd known she was coming I'd have 
had the room done over for her . Y'ou might have 
given me time enough for that. 

Betsy. Since we're going to the Port it doesn't 
matter much. How soon can you get the house 
opened up ? 

Neil. Oh, two or three days. I'll p^o and tele- 
phone to Hanson at once. And to Hilliard, 
too. We'll have the Roamer put into commission. 
I haven't used her in two years. But this is the 
time to really spread ourselves, eh? 

Betsy. She's been brought up very simply. You 
mustn't spoil her. 

Neil. Spoil her. I'll give her my head. 

Betsy. It isn't your head she wants. It's your 
heart. 

Neil. Ah! If that were all. (He aoes into his 
room at r. ) 

Betsy. (Crossing to u) I suppose that room 
hasn't been aired in a month. (Ex^'*'^ l. leaving 
door open. Enter Cynthia. She is a gracefid, 
slender pretty girl of ly or i8, zvith a rippling, musi- 
cal voice, and a trick of using French zvords and 
phrases that betrays her education. She stands 



THE RAINBOW 37 

at c. looking eagerly about the room as Betsy en- 
ters) Ah, Cynthia! . • 

Cynthia. (Looking about in disappointment) 
Oh, Auntie, isn't he at home? 

Betsy. Of course he is. He'll be here in a mo- 
ment. 

(Bennett enters follozved by Therese, the French 
maid who speaks no English. She carries a 
Jiandbag and a hat box.) 

Cynthia. Have— have you told him? 

Betsy. Oh, yes. I've told him. 

Cynthia. Does he — does he want me ? 

Betsy. You'll see. 

Cynthia. Oh, Auntie, dear, don't sav he doesn't 

Avant me? 

Betsy. (To the maid) Therese, take Miss Cyn- 
thia's things into that room. (Therese merely 
stares) 

Cynthia. (To Therese) Voici ma chambre, 
Therese. Mettez y les choses. 

Therese. Oui, mademoiselle. (Goes into the 
room at l. closing door) 

Cynthia. She doesn't understand much English, 
vou know. 

Betsy.- Well, Bennett, what is it? 

Bennett. (Starting out of his trance) Oh, 
nothing, Ma'am. {Hardly able to take his smiling 
eyes off the girl) I just— well— I just— (Goes out 
mumbling an excuse) 

Cynthia. Oh, Aunty, which is his room? 

Betsy. (Pointing r.) There. 

Cynthia. (In rapture) Oh ! 

Betsy. Yes, that's the sacred spot. 

Cynthia. (Looking about her) And here's 
where he lives— my daddy— Oh, I love this room. 



38 THE RAINBOW 

1 do love it. {Enter Neil, at r. He stops short, 
staring at Cykthia. She, too stands stock still, 
gazing at him. Betsy steps forward ceremoniously 
after a moment) 

Betsy. Miss Sumner, allow me the honor of pre- 
senting your father, Mr. Sumner. {Father and 
daughter approach each other slozvPy, smiling but 
each a trifle shy. She gives him her hand. He takes 
it in both of his. She smiles up at him for a mo- 
ment and then slips gently into his arms murmuring 
softly ''Oh, daddy! daddy!" Betsy looks at them 
a moment, and then goes into the room at l. ) 

Neil. {As Cynthia raises her head from his 
breast; still holding both her hands) My little 
Cynthia ! Is it really possible ? 

Cynthia. {Shyly) I — I've grown — haven't I ? 

Neil. Grown ! Why — I — I shouldn't have 
known you. Think of that. I might have passed 
you on the street and I shouldn't have known you. 

Cynthia. Ah, but I'd have know^n you. 

Neil. Why, child, how could you? You were 
hardly more than a baby when — when you 

Cynthia. Yes, but mother has a picture of you. 

Neil. Oh, has she ? 

Cynthia. Oh yes. 

Neil. Ah, it must be an old one. 

Cynthia. But it looks like you, daddy. You 
haven't changed so very much. 

Neil. Haven't I? Now I thought I had. 

Cynthia. Oh, no. You look a lot like the pic- 
ture. 

Neil. Think of that. 

Cynthia. I should have known you an3^where. 
Onl}^ — only I didn't know you were so handsome. 

Neil. {Laughing it off, but clearly delighted) 
Now — now — see here — vou mustn't talk like that. 



THE RAINBOW 39 

Cynthia. Oh, but I didn't. Nobody ever told 
me. 

Neil. Really, if you talk like that, you know 
you'll turn my head. I'm not used to it. 

Cynthia. Oh, please turn around, daddy dear. 

Neil. {Turning around) Turn around? 

Cynthia. Yes. I want to see your back. 

Neil. Good Lord! 

Cynthia. Oh, what a dear back— — - 

Neil. Oh, now you be quiet ! 

Cynthia. Just the kind of a back I wanted my 
daddy to have. 

Neil. Why, you absurd little angel. (Cataies 
her in his arms) 

Cynthia. Oh, it's just too splendid! It — it 
can't be true. {He holds her hands as she leans 
hack forming a pretty picture) Oh, daddy dear, 
if you're only half as nice as you look 

Neil. Ah, Fm afraid I'm not. {Sees that this 
sounds conceited and laughs) Oh, I don't mean 
that, of course. 

Cynthia. Ha, ha, ha! That did sound funny, 
didn't it? 

Neil. What I meant was that I — well — I'm not 
much used to being a father and — well you must 
give me time. But I'm going to do the best I 
can, the very best I can. 

Cynthia. {Stepping back) Oh, T do love ^^'^u 
when you smile. 

Neil. {Smiling broadly) Do you? 

Cynthia. You've got the sweetest smile. 

Neil. Really! 

Cynthia. Didn't anybody ever tell you? 

Neil. No, I don't think it's been called to my 
attention — at least not recently. 

Cynthia. Oh, please smile all the time, when- 
I'm with vou. daddv dear. 



40 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. I'm afraid it would get monotonous. Be- 
sides, I have a splendid frown. 
Cynthia. Oh ! (Dubious) 
Neil. Oh, yes, you should see me when I frown. 
It's very awe-inspiring. 

Cynthia. I'm sure I should be terribly fright- 
ened. Please don't ever frown at me. 

Neil. All right, I won't if you promise never 
to leave me. 

Cynthia. Ah, Mais c'est un brave homme, mon 
papa! Je t'aime ! Je t'aime. Je t'aime! (She 
gives him her hands again) But I forgot. Perhaps 
you don't understand much French. 

Neil. Only a little, my dear. 

Cynthia. Then I shall teach you, shall I ? 

Neil. Yes, indeed, that will be fine. 

Cynthia. And the very first thing I'll teach 
you all the pet names I know and you shall call me 
by them. Will you? 

Neil. Oui, ma petite, avec le plus grand plaisir 
du monde. 

Cynthia. Oh, you fraud. You do know 
French ! 

Neil. Not much, my dear, and I'm afraid mv 
accent is not quite 

Cynthia. Well, perhaps it's not exactly Paris- 
ian, but 

Neil. Whenever I find a man who can under- 
stand my French, I'm always suspicious of his 
French. 

Cynthia. Dearest daddy. I wouldn't care if 3'ou 
were deaf and dumb. 

Neil. No ! I daresay there are a lot of people 
who would prefer me that way. 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy, how can you say so ! I 
think you've got the sweetest voice. 

Neil. Do you, now? 



THE RAINBOW 41 

Cynthia. Indeed I do. Didn't anybody ever 
tell you ? 

Sumner. Not a soul. 

Cynthia. Honestly? 

Neil. Honest and true — black and blue! Now 
that I come to think of it — it seems I've been sur- 
rounded by a singularly unobservant set of people. 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy, now you are making fun 
of me. Ce n'est pas gallant, mon papa. 

Neil. (Goes quickly to her — puts his arms 
aroimd her) Making fun of you ! Not unless one 
makes fun of one's dearest and best. 

Cynthia. And — and you're sure you want me? 

Neil. Want you ! 

Cynthia. You are sure I won't be — in the wav? 

Neil. My dear, I've alwtiys wanted you — al- 
ways — but never so much as now. 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy ! daddy ! (She hurries her 
face on his breast. Enter Betsy at l.) 

Betsy. Why, Neil, this is a nice way to treat 
A'our daughter. 

Neil. ^Eh ? 

Betsy. Wliy, you haven't even asked her to 
take off her hat. 

Neil. Hat? Is she wearing one? (Betsy 
]aughs) To be sure. My dear — won't you take 
off your hat? 

Cynthia. (Taking it off) Thank you. 

Neil. (Taking it from her) It's a beautiful 
hat. isn't it^ It isn't a hat, it's a halo. All these — 
er — what-d'you-call-'em, and things. (Indicating 
the trimmings) 

Cynthia. Oh. that's nothing. Just wait till 3^ou 
see my others. 

(Enter Bennett.) 



42 THE RAINBOW 

Bennett. Mr. Hollins is on the 'phone. 

Neil. (With half a glance at Betsy) Er, did 
you say — Collins! 

Bennett. No, sir, HoUins, sir! 

Neil. Oh! All right! Just a moment. (Ben- 
nett exits, somewhat confused. Neil is a hit 
jarred as Betsy gives him a significant look) 
You'll excuse me, Cynthia? Don't go away now. 

Cynthia. Go away! Why, of course, I won't. 
Neil. You see — I'm afraid to let you out of my 
sight. {He goes out) 

Cynthia. (Turning to Betsy) Who's Mr. Hol- 
lins, Auntie? 

Betsy. Oh, he's — er — just a man. 

Cynthia. Auntie. Of course he is. (Laugh- 
ing) But is he one of father's friends? 

Betsy. Why, he's er — one of his acquaintances. 

Cynthia. Is he nice? But of course he must 
be if father has anything to do with him, mustn't 
he? 

Betsy. (Trying to get out of the hole) Er — 
hadn't you better go and look at your room ? 

Cynthia. Oh, no. I promised father I wouldn't 
go away till he came back from talking to Mr. 
Hollins. (Gives hat to Betsy) Oh, Auntie, won't 
it be splendid to know all father's friends so that 
even when Fm not wath him I'll know what he's 
about and — and who he's with and — oh, eveiT- 
thing. 

Betsy. (Embarrassed) Why, dear — I suppose 
so. 

(Neil comes in again.) 

Cynthia. (Crossing to Neil) Oh, daddy do 
tell me about Mr. Hollins. You see, I'm going to 



THE RAINBOW 45 

know all about all your friends and we might just as 
well begin now. Is he nice? 

Betsy. (Significantly) Yes, Neil tell us all 
about Nick Rollins. <• „ 

Neil. Oh— Oh— there's plenty of time for all 
that. I've got a lot of things to ask about you 
hrst. (Enter Bennett) Well, Bennett. 

Bennett. Mr. Mortimer is down stairs waiting 

for vou, sir. 

Neil. Mortimer? (Has clearly forgotten all 
about his date to go to the track) 

Bennett. Yes, sir. 

Betsy. (Looking at Neil) Huh ! (She turns in 
disgust and goes off l., leaving door open) 

Neil. (Remembering) Oh, yes, I remember, 
[ust tell him that I shan't be able to go after all. 
Present my apologies, and say I can't go. Say I'm 

sorry. 

Bennett. Yes, Mr. Neil. 

Neil. And Bennett, telephone for the car, please 
—not the limousine— it's too fine a day— for the 
roadster, please. 

Bennett. Yes, Mr. Neil. (He goes out) 

Cynthia. Oh, now I'm keeping you from some- 
thing. 

Neil. My dear, not at all ! 

Cynthia. Oh, I mustn't begii\ this way or I 
shall be a nuisance and first thing I know you'll 
be sending me back to mother. 

Neil. Nonsense! Nonsense! It's nothing of 
the least importance. Come now, suppose we take 
a look at your room — shall we? 

Cynthia. Yes, indeed. 

Neil. You know if I had know you were com- 
ing, I'd have had it all done over for you. 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy. It's under your roof, 
isn't it? 



44 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. Of course. 

Cynthia. Alors, ca me suffit. {They both go 
out L.) 

(Presently, laughter and gay chatter are heard in 
the hall and in a moment a merry group en- 
ters, attended by Bennett. They are Jane 
Palmer, Elsie Davis and Mortimer. The 
women are expensively but loudly dressed and, 
like Mortimer, who carries a pair of field- 
glasses in a leather case slung over his shoulder, 
are attired for an afternoon at the race-track. 
They are discussing Neil's attempt to get rid 
of them, all speaking together as they come in. 
It is clear that these are among the birds of 
prey alluded to by Betsy. Presently Mor- 
timer's voice rises from the confused babble.) 

Mortimer. What do you know about that. I 
distinctly told him I'd be here at twelve with the 
car. Eh ? Well ! Where is he, Bennett ? 

Bennett. He was here a moment ago, sir. Per- 
haps he's in his room. I'll see. (Knocks on the 
door to Neil's bedroom. N'o answer. He looks 
in) Not there, sir. He must be in the gray room. 
(Crossing to h.) 

Elsie. He must think we're eas}^ to be chucked 
like that. 

Mrs. Palmer. Can't come that over you. eh. 
Elsie? 

Elsie. Not on your marriage certificate. 

Bennett. (Knocks at l.) Mr. Neil! Mr. 
Neil ! (The door opens and Neil comes out. Ben- 
nett goes out) 

Neil. (Evidently displeased at seeing the group) 
Wei 1 ! ( Car eft illy shuts the door b eh in d h im ) 

Mortimer. .See here, Neil, you can't turn us 



THE RAINBOW 45 

down like this, you know. Everything's all ar- 
ranged, lunch all ordered and everything. 

Mrs. Palmer. Think of that! The lunch all 
ordered ! 

Neil. {Going towards them a little) Good 
morning, Jane. Good morning Elsie. Vm terribly 
sorry but I — I can't help it. I really can't. Some- 
thing's come up, something most unexpected, aun't 
you see, end — (Enter Cynthia at l. much to Neil's 
annoyance) Ah, this is my daughter, Cynthia. 

Mrs. Palmier. (After a long, significant pause) 
vSo that's the something. How do you do, Miss 
Sumner. I am Mrs. Palmer. 

Cynthia. (Going to Mrs. Palmer delightedly) 
Good morning. 

Neil. (Forced to introduce the others) And: — 
er— Cynthia, this is Miss Davis and Mr. Mortimer. 
(Neil beholds his innocent daughter surrounded 
by his worldly friends.) 

Cynthia. (Brightly and much pleased) Vm 
very glad to know you both. 

Mrs. Palmer. (To Neil) I see — I see — you 
didn't know she was coming. 

Neil. No — no— that's it— I didn't. 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, that's very simple. There's 
plenty of room in the car. 

Neil. Oh, thank you, but 

Mrs. Palmer. (Turning up a little — to Cyn- 
thia) My dear, wouldn't you like to go to the 
races with us? 

Cynthia. Yes, indeed. Ed love to. Eve never 
seen any races. May I, daddy ? 

Neil. (Shaking his head) Em very sorry — but 
it's impossible. 

Elsie. Oh ! I say now ! Do be a good fellow ! 

Neil.^ (Frozvning) It's quite impossible. T 
don't wish to be disagreeable but — Eve made other 



46 THE RAINBOW 

plans. (The three intruders now see that he is 
angry) 

AdRS. Palmeer. Oh, well, of course, in that 
case, we'll have to give you up. Sorry. 

Elsie. I think it's too bad of you. I'm sure 
Miss Sumner would love the races. 

Neil. I'm very sori-y. 

Cynthia. But, daddy, I don't want to keep you 
home, if 

Neil. {Quietly) Hush! My dear! Hush! 

Mrs. Palmer. (Sntiling darkly) That's right, 
my child, heed the voice of authority. Improve 
your brief hour, Neil, for she'll grow up, you know. 

Elsie. Now what do you know about that, my 
dear ? 

Mortimer. Neil, you give me more or less of a 
pain. 

Neil. Sorry, Billy — but I can't help it. 

(Mortimer shrugs his shoulders and goes out 
after the women.) 

Cynthia. Daddy, why didn't yuu want to go 
with them. I should have loved it, I know, and now 
you're staying at home on my account and — and — 

Neil. Nonsense ! My dear child. I was glad 
to have an excuse, now 

{Enter Betsy at l.) 

Cynthia. {Crossing to Betsy) Oh Auntie, I'm 
afraid he'll get tired of me quickly if this goes on. 

Betsy. Why ? 

Cynthia. Some people came in just now. (Neil 
zmnees at the coming blow) To take him to the 
races and he wouldn't go on account of me. 

Betsy. People? What people? 



THE RAINBOW 47 

Neil. (Trying to shut her up) Oh, what does 
it matter ? We're not going, anyhow ? 

Betsy. (Insisting) What people? 

Cynthia. Why, a Mrs. Palmer and a Miss 
Davis. 

Betsy. (JVith a crushing look at her brother) 
Really ! 

Cynthia. Yes — and Mr. Mortimer. 

Betsy. So ? 

Cynthia. Yes. And they asked me to go, too. 
But he wouldn't have it. 

Betsy. It's just as well. The race-track is hard,^^ 
a place for a young girl. 

Cynthia. (Placing her arm through Neil's in 
great pride) Any place where my daddy goes is 
good enough for this young girl. 

Betsy. (Acidly) Oh! Is it! 

Cynthia. Yes, indeed. 

Betsy. Well. I'll look in on you at tea time, 
Neil. (Going) 

Neil. Do. And Cynthia and I will go for a 
spin in the car, and then we'll lunch somewhere — 
Delmonico's — the Ritz — the Plaza — wherever she 
likes. 

Cynthia. (Joyously) I don't care where, just 
so you go, too. (Goes to Betsy and kisses her 
then goes to door of her room) I'll just go and 
fix my hair. Good-bye, Aunty ! I won't be a min- 
ute, Daddy. (She runs into her room, leaving 
the door open) 

Betsy. (Follozvs Cynthia with hej^ eyes and 
then turns to Neil — speaking quietly that Cynthia 
may not hear) Well, now do you see what I 
mean ? 

Neil. I beg your pardon. 

Betsy. The birds of prey. We can't have this 
^ort of thing. 



48 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. {Turning away) We— we'll go to the 
Port the day after tomorrow. 

Betsy. I'm sorry it isn't today. (At the door) 
And, in the meantime, remember. 

Neil. Remember ? 

Betsy. Take care! (She gives him a look and 
goes out. Through the open door of Cynthia's 
room the girl is heard exchanging a sentence or two 
of French with her maid) 

Cynthia. Therese ! Aidez moi avec ma coiff. 
ure. 

Therese. Oui, mademoiselle. 

Cynthia. Non, non, je ne le porterai pas ainsi 
aujourd'hui — (Then she begins to hum a phrase 
or tzvo of a song) ' 

(Neil listens a moment, then Jiis face brightens, 
his body begins to sway in time with the 
song. His whole manner changes into that of 
a big hearted boy. He takes in a deep breath 
as if it were the air of Spring. He goes to the 
window and raises it, as if to let in all the 
Spring joy possible. Takes his cigar case out 
— takes a cigar, places it in his mouth — but the 
taste is bad and he puts it back in the case — 
puts case in pocket, looking toward the room 
that holds his daughter and listening to her 
voice — still under its spell. Bennett enters 
with his cap and gloves.) 

Bennett. The car's here, sir. 

Neil. {Taking hat and gloves) All right, Ben- 
nett. (Bennett goes out) 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy, are you waiting? 

Neil. Yes, dear. 

Cynthia. Please don't get discouraged, I won't 
be long . 



THE RAINBOW 49 

Neil. I've waited ten years. I can wait a little 
longer. 

Cynthia. Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! Oh, ce pauvre papa ! 
(Cynthia'.? voice again takes up the little ballad 
she has been singing. And so, Neil still zvaiting 
zvith his eyes upon her door, 

The curtain falls. 

ACT II. 

Time: Three weeks later. 

Scene: A bright, cheerful room in Neil's home 
at Port Washingon, Long Island. The light 
is that of a fine June mid-afternoon. A door 
at lozver l. i sthe main entrance for visitors, 
though one may enter through the gardens at 
the centre. Another door is at lozver r. The 
door at c. is one of Colonial design large and 
handsome. A large French zvindozv is set R. 
of door at middle distance in the flat. An- 
other French zvindozv is at l. of door. At up- 
per L. on the side zi'all is another zvindozv, but 
this does not extend to the floor. The door 
at c. is open and through the door and zvin- 
dozvs, one beholds a zvell trimmed qarden and 
landscape zvith a church steeple rising in the 
distance. A brick zvalk is seen at back zvith 
hedge rozvs running across stage to the path 
zvay at c. Tzvo large garden urns filled zvith 
June flozvers, joined to the hedge rozvs, are 
seen through the door. While off l. is seen a 
graceful pergola. The first drop behind hedge 
rozvs shozvs an extension of the pathzvay at c. 
leading up to a fountain flanked zvith flower 



50 THE RAINBOW 

beds. Beyond is seen the smiling sloping lands- 
cape. 

The walls of the room are covered with a 
flowered Cretonne in which the predominant 
tone is a rich cream color. All the furniture 
in the room is white. A large old fashioned 
brick fireplace at r. is of dull cream colored 
bricks with zvhite slabbing. The hood is cov- 
ered with Cretonne like the walls Above the 
fireplace under the mantel shelf is seen the in- 
scription "East-West-Home's Besf. The fire- 
place is banked with ferns and plants. On 
the mantel is set a old fashioned colonial clock, 
two silver photo frames, a pair of vases and a 
pair of candlesticks. An old fashioned chair 
foot rest is above mantel. A small writing desk 
luith chair is set below mantel and above door. 
A small round table is set about middle r. with 
chairs r. and l. At r. is an armchair and an- 
other is set at l. below door. A single chair is 
up R. between zvindow and door. Another chair 
breaks the corner at tipper l. A grand piano 
is at upper l. just off c. A vase of June roses, 
a photo frame, and sheets of scattered music 
are on the piano. A piano bench is r. of piano. 
The piano is set with the keyboard screened 
from vietv of audience, that is, diagonally from 
R. to L. A settee is belozv piano on a line with 
the table. The doors at side are of rich mahog- 
any. The door at c. is white with an old 
fashioned brass knocker attached. A jardini- 
ere of pink flowers at r. of this door and an- 
other at L. below the zvindow. Between the 
door and French windows on either side are 
hung oval mahogany framed portraits. French 
medallions are hung at r. and l. of the zvin- 
dozvs. Between window and door at l. is a 



THE RAINBOW 51 

large mahogany framed picture, and another 
large picture is on the wall at r. below the, 

mantel. The subjects of the pictures are Col- 
onial. Another French picture hangs on the 
wall below door at l. The baseboard and 
mouldings are done in white. The general tone 
of the room reveals refinement of a high de- 
gree without a touch of extravagance. The 
apartment is chaste but not in the least cold. 
When we first see this room. Fellows is 

seated at the table with some legal papers 

spread before him. Neil is at c. They are 

finishing an earnest conversation. 

Neil. (Walking up and down) It does seem 
as if there ought to have been some way of pre- 
venting it. 

Fellows. Well, I couldn't see any — as long as 
you insisted on letting her go on regarding herself 
as a wealthy woman. 

Neil. But couldn't you tell Ruth that these mines 
of Hanford's were 

Fellows. My dear chap, I did. Called in a min- 
ing expert, too. He made one of those yes and no 
reports, d'ye see? Wouldn't say the mines were 
any good and wouldn't say they weren't. The worst 
I could get him to say was that he regarded them 
as a highly speculative proposition and in no sense 
a conservative investment. 

Neil. And you sent Ruth this report? 

Fellows. I did. But it was apparently all off- 
set by Hanford's glowing letters. Evidently he 
told Ruth that his entire business future depended 
on floating those mines and that he had to have 
her help. So in she plunges. Well, it's all up 
now. 



52 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. Complete smash, eh? 

Fellows. Seems to me the least Dick Hanford 
could do was to have the nerve to go and tell her 
himself. But no — he must needs come whining to 
me. Well, breaking it to 'em gently is my long 
suit. (Rising) 

Neil. Hm ! Well, no use in half way mea- 
sures. So — you just fix it up with Hanford to 
hold his tongue about the smash and draw on me 
for Ruth's dividends whenever they would fall due 
if there were any. 

Fellow^s. You mean it ! 

Neil. Of course. 

Fellows. You're going to save that skunk 
again ? 

Neil. No — no — my dear chap, that isn't it at 
all. 

Fellows. That's the way it works out, isn't it? 
He ought to go to jail. 

Neil. That v/ouldn't help Ruth, wotild it ? No- 
no — let's leave her what illusions we can. (Sits 
dozvn) I tell you, Ned, Fve lived long enough in 
this funny world to realize the value of a genuine 
first class, A. No. i, hale and hearty illusion. Ruth's 
got one about her brother. Let her keep it. That's 
all. 

Fellows. (Shaking his head) This is all most 
unbusiness like. 

Neil. Who said it wasn't? Before I get so that 
I can't afford to be unbusinesslike now and then, 
I hope I choke — that's all. 

Fellows. She'll find out sometime — sure to 

Neil. All right — but it won't be through me. 

Fellows. Bvtt you see 

Neil. Now, Ned, we've been all over this be- 
fore. Ruth wouldn't take a dollar from me, if she 
knew it, and — well — women know what to do witk 



THF. RAINBOW 53 

money. And if that weren't enough, there's Cyn- 
thia—don't you see ? i r j ^ 

Fellows. You know, if she ever does hnd out, 
I hate to think what she'll say to me. 

Neil Cheer up, Ned, your case is not excep- 
tional. Half the lawyers in Christendom pass nme 
tenths of their time trying not to get found out. 

Fellows. You're very comfortmg. 

{Enter Betsy from l.) 

Betsy. My dear Ned. (He advances to meet 

Jier) 

Fellows. How are you, Betsy? 

Betsy. I am so glad to see you ! 

Fellows. My dear Friend, I am overwhelmed 
by the cordiality of this reception. 

Betsy. And if you knev/ how few visitors we 
have to whom I can say that 

Fellows. {Turn to Neil) Dear me, Neil ! 

Neil. Oh, our Betsy is getting to be a social 
martinet 

Fellows. Really. This is a new side of her 
character. 

Betsy. Oh, Neil must have his joke, but if you 
l^new— the Charlie Williamses and Hollinses 

and Tx 11- 

Neil. Now, I draw the line there. Hollins 

hasn't been here at all. 

Betsy. I don't see why you go on supporting 
that — snake. 

Neil. Oh, he's got to live, hasn't he? 

Betsy. I don't see the necessity, He— he— he's 
an insect. 

Neil. Now, my dear sis, a man can't be both 
a snake and an insect. 

Betsy. He can. He's leading a double life. 



54 THE RAINBOW 

Fellows. {Shakes hand with Betsy) Well, 
I've got to gallop, I'm afraid. 

Betsy. So soon? 

Fellows. Yes. I really must. 

Neil. Got a motor? 

Fellows. No, I'm going to walk. It's line for 
the figure. 

Neil. I'll stroll along with you. 

Betsy. Do come again soon, Ned, I'm always 
sorry to see your back. (Sitting at piano) 

Fellows. Thanks, I will. 

Neil. (As he fakes his hat from the piano. To 
Betsy) By the way, did you tell McPherson to 
spray the roses. 

Betsy. I did. 

Neil. Good. Can't have any bugs eating up 
Cynthia's roses. 

Betsy. It's a pity you can't have McPherson — 
spray 3''0ur visiting list. 

Neil. {Playfully) Come along, Ned, before it 
gets worse. {He takes his arm. They go out at 
rear, turning r. Betsy at the piano begins to play 
the music of the little French song that is open on 
the rack. As she plays, Cynthia appears at the 
French windozv and comes in humming the song. 
Presently she takes up the zvords and sings them 
as she pidls on her gloves. She is dressed for driv- 
ing. The words of the song runs as follozvs, 

"Ne parlez pas tant, Lisandre, 
Ouand nous tendons nos filets ; 
Les oiseaux vont vous entendre, 
Ft s'en fuirent de bouquets. 
Aimez moi sans me le dire, 
Aimez moi sans me le dire, 
A quoi bon ton ces grands mots ? 



THE RAINBOW 55 

Calmez ce bruyant delire 
Cas ca fait peur aux oiseaux 

Calmez ce bruyant delire, 
Cas ca fait peur aux oiseaux." 

Cynthia. (Laughing delightedly) Well! 
You see you've got it. {Laying one glove on the 
table while she buttons the other) Don't you like it ? 

Betsy. Yes. It's charming. 

Cynthia. I think it's a peach. 

Betsy. (Rising) A what? 

Cynthia A peach — a corker. 

Betsy. Where on earth did you get those ex- 
pressions ? 

Cynthia. (Laughingly) Oh, from one of the 
Carley twins. 

Betsy. What? 

Cynthia. You see, I'm getting Americanized. 

Betsy. Yes. With a vengeance. The Carleys, 
indeed ! Have you any more as good as those ? 

Cynthia. Yes, indeed. I've learned that when 
you don't like anything, you say — let me see — what 
is it? Oh, yes! You say, "It's the limit." 

Betsy. Goodness ! 

Cynthia. And when anything surprises you, you 
say, "Well, wouldn't that — wouldn't that frost you !" 

Betsy. Do you ever hear me use such expres- 
sions ? 

Cynthia. No — o — I, don't think so. 

Betsy. Well — please don't let me hear you say 
them either. They're not nice. 

Cynthia. All right, Aunty dear, but how was 
I to know? I'm sorry. Oh, I've vexed you, haven't 
I? (Takes her hands) 

Betsy. Nonsense, dear, no, of course you 
haven't. It's all right. Come, now, be off with you ! 



,56 THE RAINBOW 

You've only time for a short drive, today you 
know. 

{Enter Bennett at l.) 

Bennett. {To Betsy, zvho receives the card he 
offers) For you, ma'am. 

Betsy. {She starts, conceals it from Cynthia) 
Oh ! Ask her in ! 

(Bennett exits.) 

Cynthia. Who is it, Aunty ? Anybody I know ? 

Betsy. Never you mind, Miss Inquisitive. Run 
along, now, (Cynthia kisses her and goes out 
c. and off r. ) 

Betsy. {Coming dozvn c. r., with an expres- 
sion of astonisJiment) Ruth! 

(Bennett opetis the door and stands up a little 
allozving Ruth Sumner to pass him, after 
which he exits. The women embrace effec- 
tionately.) 

Ruth. My dear Betsy ! 

Betsy. How well you are looking Ruth. Did 
you motor down? 

Ruth. Yes. 

Betsy. Oh ! I am so glad to see you. Won't 
3^ou sit down? 

Ruth. And I'm glad to see you Betsy. I'm 
always glad to see you — But — {They sit down) I've 
come — to see Neil. 

Betsy. {Puzzled) To see Neil! {Then mak- 
ing the wrong interference) Oh, Ruth, I'm so 
glad. I can't tell you how 

Ruth. No — no — it isn't that. I'm sorry — but it 
isn't ! It's about Cvnthia. 



THE RAINBOW 57 

Betsy. But she was going up to you this af- 
ternoon for your birthday. 

Ruth. Yes. I don't mean to stop her. On the 
contrary 

Betsy. My dear Ruth, what do you mean? 

Ruth. I mean to ask you if you do not think 
that when she comes to me this afternoon, it ought 
to be to stay. 

Betsy. (Pained) Oh, Ruth. Is that quite kind? 

Ruth. I do not mean it unkindly. I wouldn't 
do one single thing to hurt poor Neil. 

Betsy. No — no — I know you w^ouldn't. 

Ruth. (Beginning to show some feeling) After 
all, there are things in my life that I can't forget — 
things that — (Breaks a little and looks about her) 
How this old room brings them back to me. It 
hasn't changed much. And all along the road I 
knew every turn — even the roadside daisies seemed 
the same. It was on a June day that I came here 
first — Lord ! How long ago — and I, a girl — scarcely 
older than Cynthia— and how — (She stops, over- 
come by her w.emories) Well, a good deal of water 
has run under the bridge since then. But you 
haven't answered my question. 

Betsy. Question ? 

Ruth. Ought I allow CYNTHIA to return?" 

Betsy. I don't understand you. 

Ruth. Well, I've been a good deal disquieted in 
one Vv'ay and another. Her letters for example^ — 
little things that slipped in — nothing of themselves 
btu significant as a whole. And then what she savs 
of people she meets. The Carleys for example. 
And (Rising) Jane Palmer! 

Betsy. (Sadly) Yes — yes — I know. 

Ruth. (Rumaging in her handbag) Why, I 
wouldn't have them in mv house. 

Betsy. But they're not intimate here, my dear. 



58 THE RAINBOW 

Ruth. What's the difference? She meets them, 
it seems. And then, things hke this. iShe gets 
clipping from her handbag) Have you seen it? 

Betsy. No. (Ruth hands clipping to Betsy 
ivho begins to read the clipping) "North Shore gos- 
sips are much interested i nthe sprightly Mrs. Pal- 
mer just now, especially in the attentions she is re- 
ceiving from a certain wealthy man who is con- 
spicuous in racing and yachting circles and who 
has long been separated from his wife. There's 
no denying the pair look well together, and seem 
to appreciate each other's society keenly, though the 
views of "poor old Charlie", the lady's favorite 
description of her aged husband, are not generally 
known." Oh, dear. Oh, that's not true — that's 
not true. 

Ruth. I daresay. And if it were — it's — it's none 
of my business perhaps, except as it affects Cyn- 
thia. (Betsy gives her back the clipping) And 
who, do you think, had the insolence to speak to 
me the other day as I was lunching with the Burn- 
hams at the Ritz ! Nick Rollins — no less. Oh, yes 
■ — and he was full of new^s of Cynthia. 

Betsy. Why, I don't think he's ever seen her. 

Ruth. Well, now, perhaps you begin to see why 
T came. I don't wish to be ungenerous to Neil, 
but — there it is. 

Betsy. Oh, it would be a pity. The child is so 
happy — she's positively radiant — and as for Neil — 
why he's as merry as a boy. 

Ruth. Yes — yes. I can remember a tim.e when 
we — w^ere merry — together. Where is he? I've got 
to see him. 

Betsy. He's gone to the gate with Ned Fellows. 
Shall I send for him? 

Ruth. Please do. Tf she's not coming back, 
he's entitled to know it ! 



THE RAINBOW 59 

(Bennett enters lj 

Bennett. Mr. HoUins is asking for Mr. Neil, 

ma'am. 

Ruth. {Astonished and looking at Betsy who 
has turned to look at her on the announcement and 
then helplessly avoids her gaze) Mr. HoUins! 

Benett. Yes, ma'am. 

Betsy. Show him in. (Bennett starts to go) 
Bennett. 

Bennett. Yes, ma'am. 

Betsy. And let me know when he's gone. 

Bennett. I will, ma'am. {He goes out) 

Betsy. (To Ruth) We'll go to my room this 
way. {They go r.) He never comes here — really 
he doesn't. 

Ruth. {She goes out r.) Well, he's here now. 

Betsy. Drat him ! (Follozvs her out) 

{Enter Bennett and Hollins at l.) 

Bennett. If you'll take a seat, sir, I'll let Mr. 
Neil know you're here. 

(Neil is seen coming on at back from off R.) 

Hollins. Thanks, Bennett, I will. (Bennett 
exits) 

Neil. {As he comes in c.) Hello! 

Hollins. How d'ye do? 

Neil. How are you? 

Hollins. Oh, I'm as well as could be expected 
of anyone as wicked as myself. I think God must 
be sleeping. 

Neil. What brings you out here at this time 
of day? Why aren't you at the track? 

Hollins. Oh w,e've onlv one starter today — 



■6o THE RAINBOW 

the Black Prince — and he's only in for a work out. 

Neil. The Black Prince! Humph! Has he 
ever finished in the money yet ? 

HoLLiNS. Not yet. 

Neil. Last time I saw him run he finished so 
far back that I didn't know whether he was last in 
the third race or first in the fourth. Well? 

HoLLiNS. Well, what? 

Neil. What is it? I'm rather busy. 

HoLLiNS. (Amused) Busy? In this hole? 

Neil. I said busy. 

HoLLiNS. (Lays hat andjjloves on table) Well, 
it's business that brings me here — your business, too 
— so you needn't be so short about It. It's our weed- 
ing-out sale. 

Neil. I've told you, Nick, that I don't wish to 
have that sort of thing brought down here. We can 
attend to that when I come to the track. 

HoLLiNS. Quite so, old chap. But as you haven't 
been to the track in a month — (Finishes zvith a 
shrug of his shoulders) 

Neil. Well, what is it? 

HoLLiNS. Here's a list of the no accounts. Tier- 
ney and I have agreed on them but, of course, we 
want your O. K. before going any further. Have a 
look. (Offer him the list) 

Neil. (Gives it a cursory look and hands it 
back) Oh, T daresay It's all right. Let 'em go. 

HoLLiNS. But, I'd like to have you 

Neil. Haven't I told you I don't want to be 
bothered with it? You v/ant my O. K. and you've 
got it. Isn't that enough? 

Hollins. Well, for .the owner of the third most 
important stringy in training, I must say 3^ou show 
precious little interest. 

Neil. Not at all. I — I'm interested in other 
matters just now. That's all. 



THE RAINBOW 6i 

HoLLiNS. The simple life, eh? May I sit down? 

Neil. {Reluctantly, by piano) Why — certainly. 

HoLLiNS. {Sits at table) Awfully good of you. 
So now it's all for the sweet and holy joys of 
domesticity, is it? 

Neil. {Sta}ids in front of piano) See here, 
Nick— ! 

HoLLiNS. Oh, I don't decry them — all very sweet 
and charming — no doubt, delightful — poetic — but 
hardly in your line, are they? 

Neil. Why not? 

HoLLiNS. Well, I was thinking it was a little 
late for you to go in for that sort of thing, eh? 

Neil. Late ? 

HoLLiNS. Thotight you'd had your try at all that 
— years ago. 

Neil. Look here, Nick. I've told you that I'm 
busy. So if you've nothing to offer us but jeers, 
vv^e'll excuse you. We don't require any bile today, 
thanks. 

HoLLiNS. {Sarcastically) May I smoke— or 
is that against the new rules, too? 

Neil. Don't be more of an ass that you can 
help, Nick. {Sits on bench and looks over music 
on piano) 

HoLLiNS. {Lighting a cigarette) I suppose that 
means that I may. Thanks. (Neil looks at him 
impatiently, and picks out the same tune Betsy 
played with one finger, Hollins smiles sarcastically 
and says) Exquisite ! Exquisite. And what exe- 
cution ! (Neil scoivls at him and then comes dozvn 
to him) 

Neil. See here, Nick, you want something. 
Out with it. 

Hollins. What makes you think so? 

Neil. Wey, you're Nick Hollins, aren't you? 
What is it? Money, I suppose. 



62 THE RAINBOW 

HoLLiNS. Well, as a matter of fact, if you could 
let me have an advance of say, two hundred, it 
would come in mighty handy. 

Neil. (Wearily) Certainly. I'll send you a 
check tonight. 

HoLLiNS. Thanks, old man. Excessively nice 
of you. 

Neil. All the same 

HoLLiNS. Oh, yes, I know — but, if you don't 
mind, it's an advance I want, not a lecture. Or 
send the lecture with the check. 

Neil. I was only going to say that you don't 
seem to be catching up with these — er — advances — 
very rapidly. 

HoLLiNS. My dear Neil, you were ahvays ad- 
dicted to the obvious. Don't I know it? It's my 
infernal luck. Damned if I ever knew such an un- 
lucky chap as my worthy but unfortunate self. 
Why, if I were to bet you that you have your hand 
in your pocket this instant, I'd lose somehow. 

Neil. (Who actually has his hand in his pocket) 
You would — because, you see, speaking of advances, 
it's your hand that's in my pocket. 

HoLLiNS. Be that as it may. (Rising, picking 
up hat and gloves) I must be off unless I can be 
of further service. 

Neil. You can't. 

HoLLiNS. Always longing to do good, I am, and 
nobody will let me. It's hard. It's very hard. 
(Opens door l.) 

Neil. Oh, I say, Nick. 

HoLLiNS. Yes ? 

Neil. Now that you're here 

HoLLiNS. Yes. If only I weren't— but now that 
I am — ? 

Neil. I want you to drop down to the stable 



THE RAINBOW 63 

and look over that Canadian hunter of mine, t^e's 
gone lame. 

HoLLiNS. What's the trouble? 

Neil. Don't know. But you might look him 
over. Haven't been able to ride him for three days. 

HoLLiNS. All right. I w^ill. 

Neil. And report — (Hollins turns) by tele- 
phone. 

HoLLiNs. (Going) Rather pointed but — I'll 
overlook it. (He goes out and Neil sits at desk 
to scribble a note) , 

(Cynthia runs in from off r. humming a tune. 
She bubbles with high spirits and the sheer 
joy of being alive. ) 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy dear. 

Neil. Hello, sweetheart. 

Cynthia. (Coming dozvn r. and laying an arm- 
ful of daisies on the table) I do wish you could 
have come with me, I've had a heavenly drive. 
(Crosses over and places her had and coat on 
piano) 

Neil. I wish I could, dear. (Rises) But there 
were things to do. How did Gyp behave ? 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy .that is the heavenliest 
pony ! Only she threw a shoe. So I had to come 
home too soon. 

Neil. We'll have that fixed right away. 

Cynthia. See what I've got here. (Gives him 
on armful of daisies) I gathered them especially 
for you on the edge of the loveliest meadow you 
ever saw. Aren't they heavenly? 

Sumner. Thanks, my dear! They are beauti- 
ful! 

Cynthia. And so wild. Sometimes I think the 
loveliest things are the wild things. Oh, I don't 



64 THE RAINBOW 

want to go to town this afternoon. I don't want 
to leave this heavenly place and you, daddy, even 
just for a day or two. 

Neil. But think how your mother will feel if 
you're not with her on her birthday. 

Cynthia. Oh, I'm going, of course, and I want 
to go, too. I v.ant to and I don't, all at once. Some- 
times it's so hard to know what to do. Don't 3^ou 
ever feel all mixed up with one thing pulling you 
one way and another thing pulling you another way, 
all at the same time? 

Neil. {Jl'ith a sympGihctic, compassionate 
smile) ]My dear, you are certainly growing up. 
That is life — just one thing pulling you one way 
and another thing pulling you another way — and 
all at the same time. (Rising) But don't you think 
you ought to be getting ready for your journey? 
Vou have to leave the house at half past four, you 
know. 

Cynthia. Oh, there's lots of time. Therese 
will pack my bag. I haven't much to do. And. 
oh daddy, I vrant to ask you something. 

Neil. Ask and receive. 

Cynthia. Do you suppose you could take us 
to the boat races at New London next week on the 
Roam.er ? 

Neil. Why not? 

Cynthia. Oh, wouldn't it be splendid I ^lother's 
told me all about the boat races. 

Neil. Has she? 

Cynthia. Oh, yes, when she was a girl. And 
is it just the same now — the river full of vachts 
with their guns roaring, and their whistles scream- 
ing, as the winning crew flashes over the line? Oh, 
it must be heavenly ! {Throws her arms about Neil 
and impulsively embraces him) Oh, daddy dear. 



THE RAINBOW 65 

it's been so long since I've seen you. (In French) 
Je t'ai tant desire. 

Neil. So it has — quite an hour and a half. 

Cynthia. Plus que ca, j'en suis sure. (Looks 
at her ivatch) Exactly an hour and thirty-five 
minutes. 

Neil. As long as that? Well, in future we 
mustn't waste so much time. Eh ? 

Cynthia. (Taking a daisy she zvears and puts 
it in his buttonhole and steps back, to admire it) 
There, daddy, that's just what you needed. What 
did you do with the one I gave you this morning? 

Neil. I was afraid I'd lose it, so Eve got it 
])ressing in Mr. Webster's justly famous dictionarv. 
(He takes her hands they langh together) 

Cynthia. What an idea! I wonder if any other 
girl's daddy ever says such nice things. 

Neil. I wonder if any other daddy ever had 
such a girl to say 'em to. 

Cynthia. (Holding up a warning finger to 
him) Hush ! Anybody overhearing us might think' 
we are fond of each other — mightn't they 

Neil. (Play fully) Oh, do you think so? 

Cynthia. Oui, et ca serait une gaucherie aff- 
reuse, n'est ca pas? 

Neil. Whereas, as a matter of fact, we're not, 
are we? 

Cynthia. No, indeed ! 

Neil. (Taking her hand) We simply hate each 
other, don't we? 

Cynthia. We can hardly stand the sight oT 
each other, can we" (They both laugh. She gives 
him a hug) Oh. daddy! You were on a winning 
cre^v at New Eondon one year, weren't you ? 

Neil. Why, who told you, child? 

Cynthia. Mother. 



66 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. Oh, yes, to be sure — it was a long time 
ago. 

Cynthia. Ah, it must have been fine — splendid. 
Didn't it make you feel sporty? 

Neil. {Jarred) Sporty? 

Cynthia. Yes. 

Neil. Where did you get that word? 

Cynthia. {Reflecting) I don't know — oh, yes, 
I do^I think it must have been Mrs. Palmer. 
(Neil's expression hardens as he turns for a brief 
instant) She uses lots of words I never heard be- 
fore. She's very clever, isn't she? 

Neil. {A little bitterly and wishing to avoid the 
subject turns to go) Oh, yes, she's clever enough. 

Cynthia. {Quickly going to him and placing a 
detaining hand on his arm) Why doesn't anybody 
ever see her husband? 

Neil. He's very old dear — old and feeble. {He 
tries to get away) 

Cynthia. {Detaining him as before) She must 
have been aw^fiilly in love with him, mustn't she? 

Neil. {A^vkzvardly) I — I suppose so. 

Cynthia. I mean — to many him when he was 
50 old and feeble. Why didn't she marr^^ him be- 
fore he got to be so old? 

Neil. He's her second husband, dear. 

Cynthia. Oh ! And she lost her first husband? 

Neil. Well she — There w^as a divorce. 

Cynthia. {Sympathetically) Oh, dear! What 
was the trouble? 

Neil. I — I forget — I don't remember — some- 
thing — but there; you're going to leave me in a 
few moments. Let's talk of somthing nicer ! Here ! 
{Takes her hand and leads her up to the veranda) 
Suppose you stand by the door, looking off side- 
wise — so with your profile against the sky — so — 
that'? right. {He backs info the room, and down 



THE RAINBOW 67 

to piano and sits on the bench looking at her) 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy, you do the funniest thing^s. 
(Turns her face to him) What's this one for? 

Neil. No! No! Please — don't turn 3^our face 
into the shadow. 

Cynthia. (Turning back to the profile vieiv) 
But I don't understand 

Neil. Don't you remember? You and Aunt 
Betsy came down here together. I came an hour 
or two later, and the first time I ever saw you 
under this roof, you were standing right there— just 
Hke that. I shall like to remember you like that — 
always — when — when — perhaps you are not here — 
any more. 

Cynthia. (Looking off l. breaks into an ex- 
clamation) Oh! 

Neil. {Going to her) Eh! 

Cynthia. (Pointing off) There's funny old 
McPherson breaking his back over my precious 
tuHp beds. (Comes dow nto Neil) He and I were 
up, oh, so veiT early today. (His arm around her 
. — they come down slozvly and over to table) almost 
as early as the birds — I wanted to feed them and 
then to pick such a lovely rose for you, Daddy, the 
loveliest of the whole garden. I marked it out the 
day before — and, what do you think? (He looks 
questioningly) A worm had spoiled it. 

Neil. It happens so. 

Cynthia. I almost cried. It w^as such a heav- 
enly posy. (Sitting on her heels in front of him) 
And McPherson says the only way to be sure of 
preventing that is to keep the buds under cover 
till they blossom out. Then they can protect them- 
selves better. C'est drole, n'est ce pas ? Why must 
there be such things as worms, mon papa? 

Neil. I don't know, petite. But here they are 



68 THE RAINBOW 

and the worst of it is, they seem to be particularly 
fond of buds. 

Cynthia. Yes, and the loveUest blossoms are 
the most delicate. 

Neil. It's that way with everything that's beauti- 
ful — my dear. 

Cynthia. {Reproachfitlh) Oh ! 

Neil. Eh! 

Cynthia. "My dear" ! Oh, say it in French, as 
I taught you, daddy. 

Neil. Ma cherie. 

Cynthia. That's right ! Now say " Iw^orship 



vou 



Neil. {Remembering with some difficulty) Ah, 
Je t'adore. 

Cynthia. Good ! Now put them together. 

Neil. Je t'adore, ma cherie. 

Cynthia. Bien ! (In French) Tu es I'eleve le 
plus intelligent de mon ecole. Don't you like my 
system of instruction? (Rising) 

Neil. (Rising) It's a great improvement upon 
all others. When I acquired my present magnifi- 
sent ignorance of the French language, I got it out 
of a book that taught you to say "Ha^e you the 
green umbrella of my grandmother?" And *'No, I 
have not the green umbrella of your grandmother, 
but I have the red parasol of my grandmother's 
aunt." (Cynthia laughing takes him by the arm 
and leads him up to piano. She sits at piano and 
Neil sits beside her. Cynthia has meantime 
picked up a sheet of music on the piano and is look- 
ing through it) Oh, by the way, dearest, w^hat's 
that little song about — the one you've been humming 
so much lately? (He picks is out as before with 
one finger) The one that goes like this. 

Cynthia. Oh, this one. {She takes the sheet 
of music from the piano and they both sit on the 



THE RAINBOW 69 

settee) It's all about a girl who goes out to feed 
the birds and a young man who's in love with her 
comes out, too. 

Neil. To feed the birds? 

Cynthia. {Smiling a little shyly) No, I don't 
think so. Because, this is what she says to him. 
First, I'll tell you the story and then I'll sing it to 
you in French. 

Neil. Splendid. Come now, what is it the girl 
says to the young man ? 

(Cynthia translates the song from a sheet of 
music.) 

Cynthia. Well, here is what she says. "Please 
don't talk so much, Lysander." 

Neil. Lysander ? 

Cynthia. Yes — that's his name? 

Neil. Not a very romantic name, is it? 

Cynthia. No, it isn't. I don't think T could 
fall in love with anybody named Lysander. 

Neil. Might as well call him Lycurgus. 

Cynthia. Hah! (Again she translates) ''Please 
don't talk so much, Lysander." 

Neil. Oh, I say. now let's call him something 
else. 

Cynthia. I'll tell you, I'll give it the French 
pronunciation — Lisandre — that's much better. 

Neil. So it is — yes, I think that might do. 

Cynthia. "Please don't talk so much, Lisandre." 

Neil. (Interrupting) But we really couldn't 
put up with Lysander, could we ? 

Cynthia. Now, daddy, we'll never hear what 
the girl said to him. (Begins again, stumbling^ at 
places over little phrases and Neil occasionallv 
breaking in with some little comment) "Please 
don't talk so much, Lisandre, while we feed the httle 



70 THE RAINBOW 

birds. Because the birds perhaps might hear and 
from the wood fly away. Love me but don't talk 
about it. What's the good of all the words? Calm 
this deep and burning passion or you'll scare the 
Httle birds. What? You say that I am cruel? 
Truly you have lost your wits, and you say that 
I am faithless? Please, 1 beg you, make no noise. 
.What? You'll hang yourself, you tell me, in the 
branches of this tree? Oh, you naughty, bad Li- 
sandre, that would scare the little birds." (Rises) 
Now, I'll sing it, shall I ? 

Neil. Good! (She takes him by the hand and 
pidls him lip to the piano. Sitting on bench and 
Neil stands) You know it is quite apparent to 
me that your friend Lisandre doesn't care much 
about the little birds. 

(Mrs. Palmer and Mortimer are seen approach- 
ing at rear.) 

Cynthia. He doesn't seem much worried about 
them, does he? (She plays a few bars, being in- 
terrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Palmer and 
Morti^ier) 

Mrs. Palmer. (In doorzvay) I hope we don't 
intrude, Neil. (Cynthia stops playing and, rising, 
goes to greet Mrs. Palmer. Neil is evidently ill 
pleased) 

Neil. Er — ah— not at all. 

Mrs. Palmer. And how are you, Cynthia? 

Cynthia. (Clearly pleased) Good afternoon, 
Mrs. Palmer, I am glad to see you. 

Mrs. Palmer. Do you remember Mr. Mortimer j' 

Cynthia. Oh, yes. (Gives him her hand) You 
were with Mrs. Palmer the day daddy and I couldn't 
go to the races, weren't you? 

Mortimer. AMiat a memorv! 



THE RAINBOW 71 

Cynthia. Oh, I don't forget any of his friends. 

Mrs. Palmer. Weren't you expecting us, Neil ? 

Cynthia. Oh, dear. I quite forgot to tell him 
you were coming. Oh, I am sorry. You see, daddy^ 
1 met Mrs. Palmer in the village yesterday after- 
noon. We had a lovely long talk and tea at the 
Carleys. (Neil and Mrs. Palmer exchange 
i/Iances) and then she said she would call today, 
and then, I'm such a silly, I went and forgot all 
about it. Oh, do forgive me, pleas.e do. 

Mrs. Palmer. Why, naturally, my dear. Say no 
more about it. (They sit on settee) 

Mortimer. The main idea, Neil, is to get a tip 
from you on the Suburban. You've got two en- 
tries and you ought to know what they're likely to 
do. King Pepper and Mrs. Ebbsmith, aren't they? 
Now, give it to us straight, and remember — we need 
the money. 

Neil. You'd better ask Nick Hollins. 

Mortimer. But I don't want to go up to town. 

Neil. You won't have to. Nick's here — down 
at the stable. 

Mortimer. All right, I'll go ask him. I'll tell 
him you said so. Otherwise he might give me the 
wrong dope. 

Neil. Oh hardly. 

Mortimer. I wouldn't put it past him. 

Neil. Why, he owes you money, doesn't he? 

Mortimer. Not a cent, thank God. 

Neil. What? Why does he discriminate against 
you? 

Mortimer. He doesn't. T discriminate against 
him. Well good-bye. (Goes out) 

Neil. Good-bye. (Turns as Mrs. Palmer and 
Cynthia break into a laugh) 

Neil. (To Cynthia) My dear. (Both rise) 
Mrs. Palmer Avill excuse you, I'm sure. (To Mrs. 



72 THE RAINBOW 

Palmer) You see, Cynthia is going to town this 
afternoon to spend two days with her mother, and 
she's barely time to rest up a bit and dress for the 
journey. 

Cynthia. Oh, I don't need to rest, daddy. 

Neil. Well, do it to please me, won't you? 

Cynthia. Oh, that's not fair, when you know 
ver}^ well I'll do anything if you put it that way. 

Neil. But I don't wish to send a tired girl back 
to her mother. It wouldn't speak very well for my 
care of her, would it? Come now, off with you. 

Cynthia. You see, I've got to go. 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, I see. Still the dutiful 
child. 

Cynthia. {Gives Mrs. Palmer her hand, then 
tiirn^ to her father) Good bye, you cruel, slave 
driver. (Kisses him and rims over to l. opening 
door) 

Mrs. Palmer. She's fallen dead in love with 
you, Neil, hasn't she? 

Cynthia. (Turning in the doorway) Oh, 
daddy, you'll be here when I go so I'll see you 
again ? 

Neil. Oh, yes, I'll be here. 

Cynthia. That's all. (Goes out) 

Neil. Go along with you now — go along. 
Sit down, Jane. (She does so) Are a^ou well? 

Mrs. Palmer. (Bitterly) Oh, what does that 
matter? Yes, I'm well. Got a terrible head. Verv 
dusty on the ocean last night — but I'm wxU enough. 

Neil. I suppose you've seen that precious scan- 
dal about us? 

Mrs. Palmer. Oh, yes. Several kind friends 
have sent me clippings. Fortunately, poor old 
Charlie can't read anything but the ver}' largest 
print. 



THE RAINBOW n 

Neil. Jane! I've always had an idea you liked 
me. 

Mrs. Palmer. Why so I do. 

Neil. That you'd do me a service if you could. 

Mrs. Palmer. So I would — {With enthusiasm) 

Neil. Well you can. Will you? 

Mrs. Palmer. Name it. 

Neil. I want you to help me keep some of 
these bounders away. 

Mrs. Palmer. Eh? 

Neil. Oh, not from me. God knows they can't 
hurt me — but from my little maid. 

Mrs. Palmer. {Cynically) Mustn't soil the 
pretty dove's wings, eh? 

Neil. {Reproachfully) You don't mean that, 
Jane. 

Mrs. Palmer. Don't I? 

Neil. Fm sure you don't. 

Mrs. Palmer. Oh, come now, you might as well 
be frank. 

Neil. Frank? 

Mrs. PAL:\fER. When you said keep those boun- 
ders away, what did you mean? 

Neil. Exactly what I said. 

Mrs. Palmer. Didn't you mean that you'd like 
me to stay away myself? 

Neil. My dear Jane 

Mrs. Paljnier. Fm just as big a bounder as any 
of them and you know it. 

Neil. No. vou're not — or vou wouldn't know 
it 

Mrs. Palmer. {Her elhozv resting on table, she 
raises her hand and, wearily resting her head, says 
bitterly) Oh, T w^ish I were dead. 

Neil. My dear Jane, turn your mind back — to 
what }'ou were, say fifteen or even ten years ago — 



74 THE RAINBOW 

Mrs. Palmer. {In anguish) No, no- — that's 
what I want to forget. 

Neil. Why forget anything as lovely as that? 
What you were then so is my Cynthia and — I want 
to keep her so. Will you help me? 

Mrs. Palmer. {Wearily) Oh, I'll stay away 
from you. That's what you mean, of course. But 
I'm only one. You ought to have begun long ago, 
Neil. I'm afraid it's too late now. Our characters 
are nothing but the lives we've led, the friends we've 
made and kept, the thoughts we've thought, the 
habits we've formed. You can't change those things 
in a day. You might as well try to wish the 
wrinkles out of your face or the nails oflF vour 
fingers. 

Neil. I — I'm afraid you're right. 

Mrs. Palmer. Right !. Oh, I am most accursedly 
correct, believe me. Why is it we can't know those 
things till it is too late? 

Neil. I give it up. It's like drifting down a 
swift stream until the rapids appear. There's no 
hope of breasting that current successfully. Your 
only chance is to pull ashore and trudge painfully 
back and long before you reach the starting point 
the night comes down. 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, I'm still drifting. 

Neil. And I'm trs'ing to pull ashore. Come 
now, won't you help me? 

Mrs. Palmer. Unfortunately, Neil, we're not in 
the same boat. And I might pull my heart out and 
it wouldn't move your boat an inch. Moreover, 
our fellow passengers are very different. I've got 
an octogenarian husband in my boat and you'v*^ got 
— a child in yours. 

Neil. Well, you chose your fellow passenger, 
you know\ 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, on account of his — baggage. 



THE RAINBOW 7^ 

Neil. While my fellow passenger — God bles^ 
her ! — deliberately swam out to my boat and climbed 
aboard. There ought to be some kind of marine 
insurance to cover a case like this. 

Mrs. Palmer. Well, there i^'t. But at least 
I can keep my boat from colliding with yours — 
and — I will. {Gives him her hand) 

Neil. If I were to thank you 

Mrs. Palmer. Oh, thank me by all means, if 
you like. Frankly, I think I deserve it, for the 
thing will not be easy. And I think I must have 
lost all sense of pride to promise it. {He is about 
to speak in protest but she stops him with a ges- 
ture) Oh, don't protest. It isn't necessary. Still 
it's rather quaint, isn't it? 

Neil. Quaint? 

Mrs. Palmer. Yes, my taking — this sort of 
thing from you and — swallowing it. {There's an 
azvkword pause) Do you know, I sometimes think 
things might have been different if you and I had 
been in the same boat from the first? 

Neil. {Awkwardly) My dear Jane, I can't 
tell 3^ou how sorry I 

Mrs. Palmer. Oh, no condoTenecs, please. 
{Wistfully) All the same, I like to think so — and, 
if you've no objection, Til go on thinking so. It 
can't do any harm, can it? 

Neil. None in the world, and ve]3^ likely it may 
be true. 

Mrs. Palmer. Thanks— thanks ! That's kind of 
you. {Again she grows ironical) And now the 
congregation will unite in singing "Pull for the 
shore, sailor, pull for the shore." 

Neil. Ah ! Now you're going to spoil it all — 
all your generosity. 

Mrs. Palmer. Not at all. Merely an echo out 
of mv Presbyterian vouth. Merely an echo — the 



26 THE RAINBOW 

emptiest of all empty things. Well, I must be off ! 

Neil. Won't you wait for Billy? 

Mrs. Palmer. No, I'll drive past the stables and 
pick him up there. When you're going the thing to 
do is to go. Good bye. {Offers her hand) 

Neil. Good bye. {He takes her hand in both of 
his) and good luck. 

(Betsy opens the door at r. Ruth stands just be- 
hind her.) 

Betsy. Oh! I thought- 



Neil. {Turns) Ruth! {There's an embarras- 
sed pause all around. Then Neil pulls himself 
together) You remember Mrs. Palmer, whom vou 
used to know as Jane Prentice. 

Ruth. {Coldly) I remember her perfectly. 
How do you do? 

Mrs. Palmer. How do you do? {To Betsy) 
Good afternoon. Miss Sumner. 

Betsy. {Coldly) Good afternoon. 

Mrs. Palmer. You'll pardon me, I know. I 
was just going. Good bye. (She turns and goes up 
followed by Neil, who escorts her out) 

Ruth. (As Betsy closes the door by which 
they entered) It was time — high time. 

(Mrs. Palmier goes out of sight along verandah 
and Neil comes back.) 

Neil. Ruth ! (She does not answer^ 

Betsy. I'm sorry to be so stupid. Neil. But I 
understood Bennett to say you were alone. 

Ruth. Where is Cynthia? 

Betsy. In her room, I think. 

Ruth. Will you see that she doesn'.t interrupt 
us? I'd rather she doesn't know that I've been 



THE RAINBOW 77 

here. I must be off before her so as to be at home 
if possible when she arrives. 

Betsy. {Opening door at l.) I'll keep her 
away. But be quick. There's not much time. 
(She goes out l. ) 

Neil. (Stiffly) Won't you sit down ? 

Ruth. Thanks. (She sits at the table. During 
this scene the light gradually fades as the summer 
storm approaches) 

Neil. I hope you're well. 

Ruth. Very. 

Neil. You're looking well. 

Ruth. Thank you. 

Neil. Why didn't you let me know you were 
coming ? 

Ruth. So as to give you time to set the scene? 

Neil. Have I deserved that? 

Ruth. Listen, Neil. I am returning to France 
this week. You will be able to guess why? 

Neil. Why? 

Ruth. There's no use beating about the bush. 
I'm going to take Cynthia away. 

Neil. (Rising) Ruth! 

Ruth. When she comes to me this afternoon it 
will be for good. 

Neil. You're going to take her away from me? 

Ruth. Yes. 

Neil. But why? Why? 

Ruth. (Slozvly and determinedly') Don't you 
know^ ? 

Neil. But I tell you the child was never so happy 
in her life — you don't know — you've no idea 

Ruth. (Rising) It was a mistake to let her 
come to you at all. But it was well meant. In spite 
of everything I hoped that — well, no matter. I sup- 
pose nobody can reconstruct his life on demand, 
conjure up a new character, new^ friends, new sur- 



78 THE RAINBOW 

roundings, as a magician produces a rabbit out of a 
hat. It's too much to expect. (Turning away) 

Neil. I don't quite understand you. 

Ruth. (Turning to him) Do you wish Cynthia 
to grow up to be like most of your friends? 
(Pause) Or do you wish her to lose her faith in 
you? 

Neil. No ! No ! Oh, no . 

Ruth. Then I must take her away, or one of 
those two things will happen. 

Neil. Oh, no — no — I don't believe it. 

Ruth. (Producing clipping which she carries 
tucked in her glove) I suppose you've seen this 
thing. 

Neil. (Giving it a glance) It"s a contemptible 
falsehood — contemptible! (Ruth gives him a 
searching look) Do you doubt it? 

Ruth. (Facing him. — evading an answer) Sup- 
pose Cynthia were to see it? 

Neil. She v/ouldn't understand it if she did. 

Ruth. Not now — but soon — she's growing up. 

Neil. Yes. She's going to be a splendid woman. 
God bless her ! 

Ruth. So she is. but only if 

Neil. If ? 

Ruth. If we help her. All these people — are 
they the sort that you want her to be like — the 
sort of riff raff you fill your house with — Nick Rol- 
lins, Billy Mortimer, or — (A little bitterness stealing 
into her tone) or the heroine of this pretty para- 
graph ? 

Neil. Ah ! You mustn't misunderstand poor 
Jane. You mustn't Why before you came in we 
were just 

Ruth. (Turning to him) Spare me — please—- 
pliease— ^ — - 



THE RAINBOW 79 

Neil. {Determined she shall understand) But 

I want to tell you 

Ruth. (Determined not to listen) I don't want 
to hear anything about it. It doesn't interest me. 
(He gives it up with a despairing gesture) The 
point is these people have been your life. They 
are your life. 

Neil. Oh, we'll get out — away from here — 
abroad somewhere — anywhere. 

Ruth. Can a man run away from his life? 

Neil. You don't know what you're saying. You 
don't know what you're asking of me. 

Ruth. Oh, yes, I do! I'm asking the happi- 
ness of a child. Now, listen ! She is coming to 
me this afternoon. 

Neil. Yes. 

Ruth. Expecting to return the day after tomor- 
row. 

Neil. Yes. 

Ruth. {With great deliberation) Well, she 
must not — return. 

Neil. And — and I'm not to see her again? 

Ruth. What would be the use? 

Neil. You mean I'm to tell her I'm sending her 
away for good ? 

Ruth. As you like. I don't insist on that. 

Neil. Just when she's grown into my life — just 
when I've realized what I've missed all these years 
— and what you've had. 

Ruth. There's no use talking about it. 

Neil. Doesn't it strike you that you're just the 
least bit cruel ? 

Ruth. No. In the end, it's the 'kindest thing 
I could do. 

Neil. (Bitterly) The kindest thing! 

Ruth. Listen, Neil. I came here distressed. 



8o THE RAINBOW 

worried, uncertain what I ought to do. It's what 
I've seen here, that has determined me. 

Neil. (Cdming down) But I tell you 

Ruth. (With an accent of finality) It's no use. 
I've made up my mind. 

Neil. (With a sudden burst of defiance) And 
suppose I should decide to keep her? 

Ruth. Keep her ! How can you keep her? The 
courts have confided her to my care. Don't be 
absurd ! 

Neil. And I'm not to count at all. 

Ruth. When a man has made his bed he must 
lie on it. 

Neil. That's a hard saying. 

Ruth. Truth is truth! We're not children. 

Neil. I wish to Heaven we were, for then we 
might start all over again. (Takes a quick step 
toward her) Are you sure it's too late? Don't 
you think we might begin again? 

Ruth. (Has a momentary impidse to yield hut 
instanth hardens) No, Neil. I'm not to be bribed. 

Neil" Bribed! 

Ruth. All the years wasted — youth spurned — 
hopes defeated — all — nothing — Neil, don't be ridi- 
culous. 

Neil. (Turning away) Still — c^fd. 

Ruth. Cold? (Gives a shrug) Perhaps. Log- 
ical, at least. I must be going. (She goes slowlv 
to the door, turns and extends her hand in parting) 
Good-bye. 

Neil. (Dumbly, ivith his back to her) Good- 
bye. (Ruth waits an instant, drops her hand and 
turns to go. Neil turns to her with his hand ex- 
tended for the parting, in time to see the door clos- 
ing. His hand drops and he turns away in dumb 
grief, as the rumble of distant thunder is heard. He 
goes to the piano and touches lovingly the hat Cyn- 



THE RAINBOW «i 

THiA has left there. A roll of thunder is heard. 
Struggling to control his emotion he goes up to the 
door and looks out. Another peal of thunder is 
heard. After a moment he turns and comes down 
as Betsy enters at l. He turns his back to her in 
an endeavor to hide his tears) 

Betsy. She's gone! 

Neil. {Suffering dumbly) Yes. 

Betsy. Well? 

Neil. {Turning to Betsy— after a pause) Oh, 
Betsy, I've got to give her up. I've got to send my 
little maid away. 

Betsy. {Softly) Yes, I know. ^ 

Neil. Ruth's right— you're right. Everybody s 
right but me. 

Betsy. {Following him zvith her eyes) My poor 

Neil! ' J T ' 

Neil. Why, I'd give my life for her and — I can t 

even fight for her. 

Betsy. Fight for her ? 

Neil. Oh, my little maid loves me— she loves 
me. You needn't think I wouldn't have a chance. 

{Enter Bennett at l.) 

Bennett. Captain Hanson, telephoning for or- 
ders, Mr. Neil. 

Neil. No orders, Bennett. 

Bennett. Veiy well, sir. {As he starts to go, 
thunder is hear again) 

Neil. Wait! {A pause) Tell him to send the 
launch ashore for me at nine o'clock tonight. 

Bennett. Yes, sir. Rain or shine, sir? 

Neil. Rain or shine. Tell him we'll sail at 
sun-up. 

Bennett. Yes, sir. 



S2 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. And send my things aboard — just the us- 
ual things. 

Bennett. Yes, Mr. Neil. (He goes out) 

Betsy. (Anxiously) Neil — where are you go- 
ing? 

Neil. Oh, I don't know — what does it matter? 
Anywhere — I couldn't stand this place without her. 

Betsy. But, my dear 

Neil. {Interrupting) Listen, sis. When she 
goes she's not to know that she's not — coming — 
back any more. 

Betsy. But I don't quite 

Neil. {Taking Betsy's hand in his) Not a 
word ! Not a sign ! She mustn't know. If she did, 
I couldn't bear it. She wouldn't understand. (Bit- 
terly) My God ! Betsy ! Do you think I can tell 
my little maid she's being sent away so that she 
won't be poisoned by the air her father breathes. 
(The thought of it stifles him and he turns from 
her. Betsy too is overcome. Neil struggles to 
regain co7itrol of himself in silence) I'll leave the 
place open. Use it as you please. Use it or shut 
it up, as vou like. I don't care whether I ever see it 
again, 

Betsy. What shall I say to her when she finds 
you've gone away? 

Neil. Say ? 

Betsy. Or will you send her a messag^e ? 

Neil. That's the worst of it. She'll think I've 
wearied of her — my blessed little mafd will think 
I've tired of her — that I've deliberately turned her 
out of my life. How can I do it? 

Betsy. You can sa}^ that 3'Ou've been called awav 
by business. 

Neil. Business ! What's the business that could 
separate me from her? There is no such business 
and well she knows it. My God! Sis, you don't 



THE RAINBOW 83 

realize what she means to me. Why, only a month 
ago it seemed to me that my Hfe was done — only 
a month ago — and tlien she came — like a blessed 
little angel of light — she breathed upon the ashes of 
my youth — my heart leaped up, like the poet's when 
he beheld a rainbow in the sky — And now — and 
now! (Thunder again. The storm comes nearer. 
The room grows a little darker) 

Betsy. {Much affected, goes up and closes the 
c. door) I hope it won't rain till she gets to the 
station. 

Neil. {Sits on settee) And doi^ t you think she 
isn't going to suffer too. 

Betsy. {Coming dozvn to Neil — placing her 
hand on his shoulder in gentle sympathy) Oh, I 
know ! I know ! 

Neil. Oh, you can't guess how close we've 
grown together — all the sacred little glimpses of 
her heart she's given me — all her little hopes and 
fears. All 

Betsy. {After a pause, goes to the door c^ i.. and 
turns to Neil) It's nearly time. I'll see if the 
motor is here, unless you'd rather I stayed. 

Neil. {With his hack to audience) No — no — 
ril say good-bye to my little maid alone. (Betsy 
goes out zvith a last look of compassion as he fights 
for self control that must be his in the approaching 
farezvell. He goes to the mantel at r. and leans 
heavily on it, gradually getting calmer. Then he 
comes behind the chair by the table, with his eyes 
fixed on the door through zvhich Cynthia must 
soon come. The situation, indeed, is a duplicate 
of that at the end of Act I, saz^e that there Cyn- 
thia was to walk into his life and now she is to 
pass out of it) 



(Bennett enters leaving door opened, and 



crosses 



84 THE RAINBOW 

up to c. opening that door. He carries a hand- 
bag and is follozved by Therese. As she 
reaches the c. door Cynthia enters and stands 
by door at l.) 

Cynthia. (To Therese, in French) Attendez 
moi dans rautomobile, Therese. Je vous suivrai 
depres. {Closes the door by which she entered) 

Therese. Oui, mademoiselle. (She goes out 
and Bennett follows, closing the door behind 
them) 

Cynthia. (Drops a small wrist bag on the set- 
tee then goes over to Neil) Well, daddy dear, 
sorry to have me go? 

Neil. (Has turned away from her to conceal 
from her any evidence of his grief) Can you ask? 

Cynthia. (Smiling brightly) But are you? 
(Gives him one glove to hold while she puts on the 
other) 

Neil. (Trying to adopt her own cheery attitude) 
Very. 

Cynthia. Honestly? 

Neil. Honestly. 

Cynthia. Honest and true? Black and blue? 

(She drops her zv ell-beloved, sunny head upon his 
breast. ) 

Neil. (A little thickly) Honest and true. 
Black and Blue. 

Cynthia. Hope to die? 

Neil. (With double meaning) Yes dearest — 
hope to die. 

Cynthia. (Wist. fully and after a pause — tak- 
ing a step back) Mayn't I take some message frona 
you to — mother ? 

Neil. Why — no, I think not. 



THE RAINBOW 85 

CvNTHiA. Oh, please, please, daddy. It would 
make her so happy, 

Neil. (IVith irony and turning his head away) 
Would it? 

Cynthia. Oh, indeed — indeed it would — and 
me, too. . 

Neil. (Unable to resist her appeal) Very well 

-then — say to your motiier that I hope she hasn't 
missed you as much as I am going to. Can you 
remember that? 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy! As if I couldn't. 
(Looks up at him) And don't look so glum. Why 
anybody'd think you weren't ever going to see me 
again as long as you lived. Do smile again, daddy. 
(She places her arm around his shoulder and with 
her left hand takes his face and smilingly tries to 
coax the smile from him, while he bravely tries to 
please her) Haven't I told you over and over again 
how much I love you when you smile? (As he 
smiles, she steps back to admire her work of tri- 
umph) That's better , daddy dear, but, still — not 
so very much. Now, daddy, that isn't one of your 
very best smiles . 

Neil. Isn't it? 

Cynthia. No — it's only a kind of second best 
smile, I guess. 

Neil. I'm sorry, dear — but it's the best I can 
do just now. 

Cynthia. (Seizing the lapel of his coat and 
shaking a monitors finger at him) Oh, you dearest 
daddy in all the world, don't be a silly or you'll 
have me crying in a minute. (She buries her face 
aqainst his shoulders zvhile he struggles to maintain 
his grip on himself, places hand on her shoulder 
and quietly hushes her .after zMch she cofitinues 
brightly and cheerily) Why, just think it's only 
for two days . I'll be back bright and early Thurs- 



86 THE RAINBOW 

day morning and you'll meet me at the station, won't 
you ? 

Neil. Why not? Why not? 

Cynthia. And will you telephone me tomorrow ? 

Neil. I'm not sure about that but — you'll hear 
from me. 

Cynthia. {A pause of puzzlement) Oh, it's 
going to be a surprise. You're coming to town your- 
self ! {Delighted at the idea) 

Neil. {Turning azi'oy and almost breaking) 
No — no — dear — I'm not coming. 

Cynthia. (After a brief pause) Oh! Well 
then — other glove, please. (She holds out her hand 
for it, he turns, and tries to smile at her) 

Neil. Must you have it ? 

Cynthia. Of course ! 

Neil. Let me keep it — please. 

Cynthia. Oh, you silly daddy, of course I 
will. Wouldn't you like the other one, too? 

Neil. No, I'll send you a -^^hole box of them, in- 
stead. 

Cynthia. Send them? What for, when I'm 
coming back so soon? Why, I wouldn't have tim.e 
to get them. (She breaks into a laugh zvhich he 
forces himself to join) 

Neil. Of course not, what a stupid daddy I 
am. 

Cynthia. And remember — Thursday morning — 
if you don't meet me at the station, I shan't kiss 
you w^hen I see you. 

Neil. Thursday morning — (On the verge of a 
breakdown) Yes — yes — but you must — must hurrv 
along — you — you haven't much — (He turns away) 

Cynthia. (Goes to him quickly) Why, daddv 
dear, you're not crying ! 

Neil. (Pulling himself together and laughs 
bravely through his tears) Crymg\ What non- 



THE RAINBOW 8; 

sense ! But I don't want you to miss your train. 

Cynthia. All right daddy dear, will you feed 
my birds? 

Neil. Of course. 

Cynthia. And take care of Gyp and see that she 
has plenty of exercise? 

Neil. Yes, indeed. 

Cynthia. And make McPherson keep the horrid 
bugs off my pretty roses till I come back ? 

Neil. (In angitishh, averting his face that she 
may not sec his tears and gently forcing her back) 
Till you come — child — child — you must hurry. (She 
goes to settee for the bag, then turns to him 
brightly ) 

Cynthia. All right, daddy dear. I'm readv 
now. Kiss me. (He takes her in his arms, crush- 
ing her in the embrace. He kisses her repeatedly 
and holding her head close, he lifts his agonized 
face, and raises his hand to his brow to steady him- 
self. When he has quite mastered himself — he 
again kisses her and speaks) 

Neil. (Brokenly) Good-bye, my little maid, 
good-bye ! 

Cynthia. (Breaking from him) Good-b3^e ! 
No, indeed, au revoir. 

Neil. (With a shozv of laughter) Yes — yes — 
that's what I mean, of course. Au revoir, au re^oir. 

Cynthia. Now say what I taught you in 
French ! Daddy ! Say you love me. 

Neil. (Almost choking over the words) Je 
t'aime, je t'aime. 

Cynthia. With all your heart. 

Neil. De tout mon coeur. 

Cynthia. And you worship me. 

Neil. Je t'adore ! Je t'adore. 

Cynthia. (Sitting on settee) Oh, daddy, I be- 
lieve I'm going to cry now. (She dabs at her eves 



88 THE RAINBOW 

with her little handkerchief) 

Neil. (Quickly going to her and lifting her to 
her feet) Cry! Nonsense! What an idea! Why 
only think — weren't you saying it's only for two 
days — come now, be off with you. 

Cynthia. Yes, I know it's silly of me to make 
such a fuss about it. (Neil with his arms around 
her gradually forces her up to the c. door, Cyn- 
thia trying to linger all the time, and speaking 
brightly, while he, feeling himself coming fast to 
the breaking point, in great distress tries to meet 
her responses bravely. He keeps his face from her 
all the zvhile, finally reaches the door and blindly 
gropes for the knob to open it) And you'll meet 
me Thursday morning when I come back? 

Neil. Yes — yes — when you come back. 

Cynthia. And you won't forget about Gyp? 

Neil. No, I won't forget your Gyp. 

Cynthia. And all my little birds? 

Neil. Nor 3^our little birds. 

Cynthia. And my pretty roses? (She is in 
the doorivay, still looking at him, ignorant of his 
agony. He has to force her out to close the door) 

Neil. No — no — I won't forget your little birds 
and your pretty roses — I won't forget aiiything- 
I won't forget. (At last he succeeds in shutting the 
door upon her. Then his voice breaks. He 
Jeans heavily with his face against the door murmur- 
ing brokenly) I won't forget — I won't — (His voice 
dies away in a stifled sob. Again the thunder grum- 
bles, nozv sharply and nearer than before. The 
storm is about to break. The beautiful room is al- 
most in twilight as the 

Curtain slowly falls. 



THE RAINBOW 89 

ACT III. 

Scene: The Villa Marchese at Mentone. 

The scene is laid on a bluff overlooking the 
Riviers, showing the river and coast line run- 
ning up and off l. The house is set at r. and 
a little below middle stage distance. It is ap- 
proached by two steps leading to platform and 
two steps on r. of platform hading into the 
door of house. The house is backed b\ a 
large pergola riinning from stag.? k. c. to be- 
hind house and off R. Opposite at i.. stage on 
lower side of house is set a smaller pergola 
leading off l. Behind this perqola running 
to L. of c. is part of stone wall. Behind this 
running from stone wall of pergola and off to 
L. is another stone wall. Over this zvall is seen 
the top of some poplar trees. A stone bench 
is set at l. of platform to house, and at c. a 
table with three chairs. At l. tn front of per- 
gola is set a zvooden bench. The furniture is 
of the prevailing garden styles, green in color. 
A sofa pillozv is on lozver steps at l on which 
Betsy sits, and a zvork basket is on table. 
Some letters are on stone bench for Betsy to 
open. The chair r. of table is a large arm- 
chair zvith a smaller arm-chair at back of 
table. Potted plants are set around the staae 
at appropriate places. The time is a little later 
than mid-afternoon and mellow sunlight floods 
the scene. 

At rise Cynthia, Betsy and Ruth arc on 
stage, Cynthia at back looking off r. Ruth 
seated r. of table and busy on some embroidery. 



90 THE RAINBOW 

Betsy seated r. on the steps engaged with some 
letters. 

Betsy. Ruth dear, I've a letter from Mrs. ^en- 
wick. 

Ruth. Isn't she the woman who used to wear 
those extraordinary gowns. (Looking at Cynthia) 

Betsy. (Also looking cautiously at Cynthia) 
Yes. Did you ever hear what Jimmy Judson said 
about her back? 

Ruth. I don't remember. 

Betsy. He said her back was the only thing: 
that made grand opera possible. (Looks cautiously 
at Cynthia) Ruth dear. Doesn't it strike you 
that our Cynthia is a little — well, a little melancholv, 
considering the circumstances? 

Ruth. Yes, dear — I — I've noticed it. 

Betsy. I wondered of you had. 

Ruth. Yes, dear, of course it's Neil. She never 
speaks of him and yet — and yet I know there's never 
a day that she's not thinking — thinking. 

Betsy. And you — dear? 

Ruth. (Rising) Don't, please don't. 

Betsy. (Going to Ruth) It's only — only be- 
cause I love you both, you know, and I thought — 
now that so long a time had passed — so long as you 
knew that Neil — well, I hopgd that if he were to 
come to you again, you might perhaps be glad to 
see him. 

Ruth. He'll never come again. 

Betsy. But — if he should — if he should — 

(Pause broken by Cynthia who comes dozvn to 
them.) 

Cynthia. Oh, dear, I don't see whv Arthur 
doesn't come. 



THE RAINBOW 9^ 

. Betsy. Is he late today ? 

Cynthia. No-o-o but I hoped he'd be early. 
{Sitting l. of table) Sometimes he is. 

Betsy. Oh dear, I know, I know— (Ruth comes 
behind Cynthia placing her arm around her) How- 
ever early he appeared it would still seem late to 
you. {Sitting r. of table) But I've a letter from 
Mrs. Fen wick. She tells me that Alice is to be 
married. I think you met her when you were 
home. 

Cynthia. Oh yes, that girl with all the dimples. 

Betsy. She's going to marry Mr. Dalrymple, 
the vvedding is to be next month at their place at 
Narragansett Pier. 

Cynthia. Yes, she'll be married a long time 
before me, won't she? 

Ruth. Evidently, since you won't set a date 
for your own wedding. 

Cynthia. Well, I won't. I've told Arthur that 
I'd never marry anybody else, but I won't marry 
him unless daddy says yes. (Ruth turns away) 
Oh aunty, why doesn't daddy came? 

Betsy. You know very well that I haven't been 
able to reach him; ever since that Costa Rican 
affair, the Roamer hasn't stayed in any port any 
lonjjer than was necessary to take on supplies. 

Cynthia. Do you think he would come if he 
knev/ ? 

Betsy. I don't know. 

Cynthia. Wasn't that splendid of him, all that 
fighting ? 

Betsy. Nobody who knew him would have ex- 
pected anything less. 

Cynthia. I know — but I love to think of it all 
the same. 

Ruth. What was it the newspapers said he told 
them? 



92 THE RAINBOW 

Cynthia. That if they didn't give up the ring- 
leader to the American Consul he'd make the town 
look like a — like a second-hand hat. Oh, wasn't it 
splendid, mother? 

Ruth. Yes, dear. 

Cynthia. Arthur says it was the talk of the 
Embassy at Paris for weeks. 

(Ned Fellows enters from house at r.) 

Fellows. Good afternoon, ladies. Therese told 
me Fd find you here. (Fellows first shakes hands 
with Betsy, Ruth crossing to shake hands zvith 
him) 

Ruth. Why Ned ! 

Fellows. (Crossing to Cynthia) And how is 
the Hght of the household? 

Cynthia. Burning brightly, thank you. 

Betsy. Yes, because well trimmed. 

Fellows. Weren't expecting me back from Paris 
so soon, were you ? 

Betsy. No, not quite. 

Fellows. Well, the fact is, something unex- 
pected turned up, and — er — well, Fve got something 
to talk to you ladies, if — (Hesitoting, and looking 
at Cynthia) 

Ruth. Cynthia darling, perhaps 3^ou won't mind 
going back to that pleasing employment of vours. 

Cynthia. (Going up c.) I don't mind at all. 
(Smiles at Fellows and exits off l.) 

Ruth. And I've some business with you, too. 
(Sitting at l. of table. Betsy sits also) 

Fellows. (Sifting behind table) Verv well, 
then, let's get yours done first. What is it? 

Ruth. It's about Cynthia. 

Fellows. Cynthia ! 

Ruth. In preparation for her marriage. 



THE RAINBOW 93 

Fellows. (Scentiny trouble) Oh! 

Ruth. I have decided to settle upon her halt 
of everything I own. 

Fellows. {In great dismay) Eh? 

Ruth. Yes, it's a thing I always meant to do 
and now the time has come. 

Fellows. {Rising in confusion) Well— er— but 



Ruth. {Looking at him) Surely there's no diffi- 
culty about that, is there? 

Fellows. {Floundering helplessly) Oh—er— 
no — I suppose not. 

Ruth. Well, then, suppose you just go ahead 
and arange it. Of course, there'll be a lot of papers 
for me to sign, I suppose. 

Fellows. Papers? Oh— er— yes—yes, lots of 
papers. 

Ruth. Well then, now that settles my busmess. 

Fellows. Yes, that settles it. 

Ruth. What's yours? 

Fellows. {Sitting behind table) Well, it's this. 
Fve taken rather a liberty. 

Ruth. Eh? 

Fellows. Now, you mustn't be cross with me. 
I've asked the American Consul at Lyons to call 
here this afternoon. 

Betsy. What for? 

Fellows. To meet Neil. 

Ruth and Betsy. {Rising) Neil! 

Fellows. {Rising) The Roamer reached Na- 
ples the day before yesterday. 

Ruth. {Very much affected) Really, Ned, 
I'm afraid 

Fellows. {Quickly, realising the effect of his 
abruptness) Now listen, please, you dear ladies, 
just a moment. T know it seems abrupt, but I 
didn't have time to ask you. I was afraid Neil 



94 THE RAINBOW 

would get away if I waited, so I acted on my own 
responsibility. 

Betsy. But I don't quite see 

Fellows. It's about tliat Costa Rican scrap at 
Casa Bella, when Neil behaved so well. The State 
Department at Washington has been trying to reacb 
him ever since it happened — and asked me to in- 
form them w^hen he reached France. I did so and 
wnred Neil to come here and now comes the Consul 
with some sort of a flattering message from his 
chief. 

Betsy. Oh Ruth, isn't that splendid? 

Ruth. Yes, dear. 

Fellows. Of course I know, dear lady, that it 
may be a little embarrassing to you to see him but 
you needn't if you don't wish to, or say the w^ord 
and I'll go to the station and turn him back. (Turn- 
ing to go as if to carry out his statement) It isn't 
too late 

Betsy. (Pleadingly) Oh \ Ruth. 

Ruth. (After hesitating) No, Ned, let him 
come, if he will. (Betsy turns to Ruth with a 
little gasp of joy) 

Fellows. (Greatly relieved) Ah good, good, 
that's best, that's best, I'm sure. 

Ruth. But are you sure he'll come? 

Fellows. Yes indeed. Here's his telegram. 
Would you like to see it? (Takes telegram from 
his pocket, opens it for her and offers it to Ruth, 
who takes it — looks at it — and then walks l. into the 
pergola and off) 

Betsy. (Quietly, as Ruth is going off, turning 
to Ned) Oh, Ned ! Ned ! That is just too splen- 
did! How did you ever dare to do it? 

Fellows. Splendid, is it? (L^oks off after 
Ruth) My dear Betsy, you don't know. 

Betsy. Eh ? 



THE RAINBOW 95 

Fellows. My dear friend, there's the vei*y deuce 
to pay. 

Betsy. What? 

Fellows. Did you hear what she said to mc 
about settUng half of her estate on Cynthia. 

Betsy. Of course. 

Fellows. Well, she hasn't got any estate. 

Betsy. What ! 

Fellow^s. Not a nickel. 

Betsy. Ned ! 

Fellows. Not a stiver. 

Betsy. What are you talking about? 

Fellows. She hasn't had a cent for over a year 
except what Neil has paid her secretly through me. 

Betsy. But I don't in the least 

Fellows. It's all that rascally brother of hers. 

Betsy. Eh ? 

Fellows. When he tried to shoot himself, he 
owed her estate over $200,000. Neil Avent on pay- 
ing the income. All the rest of it went into some 
of Dick's fake mines. Well, Neil made that good 
too. 

Betsy. (Greatly surprised) Ned! 

Fellows. Oh, I don't mean that he made good 
the principal. He just went on paying the divi- 
dends and interest so that she never knew the diff- 
erence. 

Betsy. Poor old Neil ! 

Fellows. And now she comes with this new 
scheme of hers. Gad! It puts me in a nice hole. 

Betsy. (Decisively) Well, there's only one 
thing to be done — she's got to be told. 

Fellows. Hang it all ! yes. 

Betsy. At once. 

Fellows. {Turning in surprise) Now! 

Betsy. At once. 

Fellows. Before she sees Neil ? 



96 THE RAINBOW 

Betsy. Yes — don't you see, if she didn't know, 
what a false position it would place her in. Oh, 
she ought to have been told — she ought. 

Fellows. Yes, but I promised Neil I wouldn't 
tell her. 

Betsy. But you told me. 

Fellows. Yes, but I didn't promise not to tell 
you. 

Betsy. And I didn't promise not to tell her. 
Why, I couldn't be responsible for keeping it 
from her. There's no good to come from trying 
to run somebody's else's life. I tell you, Ned, the 
minute any of us little atoms begins to play that he 
is God, there's some kind of a big smash not far 
ahead. 

Fellows. (After a moment's hesitation) Well, 
let's get the blamed thing over with. I wish I had 
told her long ago, in spite of ^Neil. (Looks off l. 
and calls) Ruth! I say Ruth! 

Ruth. (In the distance) Yes 

Fellow^s. If you please. 

Ruth. (Coming nearer) All right. (Enters 
expectantly) What is it? Has he come? 

Fellows, (c.) Not yet — but you see 

Ruth. Eh ! 

Betsy. Yes, you see — er 

Ruth. What do I see? 

Betsy. We — we've got something to tell you. 

Fellows. (Eagerly, pushing Betsy forward) 
Yes, yes. Betsy's got something to tell you. 

Ruth. Eh ? 

Betsy. (Pushing Fellows forward) Yes, 
yes, Ned's got something to tell you. 

Ruth. (Rising. Thinking she is about to hear 
a sentimental confidence) Well, bless vour heart. 
I'm delighted ! And to think I never once guessed 
vour little secret. How slv vouVe been about it ! 



THE RAINBOW 97 

Feltows (Dumfounded) Eh? 

Betsy. {Much amused and laughnuj) Mo, no, 
it isn't that — — 

Ruth No'* 

Bftsy No'— it isn't at all that sort of thing 

Fellows (Turns to Betsy, suddenly seeing the 
point and breaking into a laugh) Oh No, 1 m 
sorry, awfully sorry, but it isn't at all that sort 

of thing. 

RuTfi. Well, then.' 

Betsy. It's something quite different. 

Fellows. Something very serious. 

Betsy. Ruth, I've got to tell you somethmg— 
something you won't like to hear. 

Ruth. Don't be afraid. I'm used to that. 
(They all sit) 

Betsy. I've got to go back a long way— back to 

an unhappy time. 

Ruth. That's never so very far back. 
Betsy. To the time when you and Neil— — 

Ruth. (Turning from her) Oh, please 

Betsy. (Placing her arm around her) When 

vou and Neil parted— when poor Dick 

Ruth (Pleadingh) Oh, my dear 

Betsy. T must. dear. That's where it begms. 

Ruth. All right, if you must. 

Betsy. Dick was then your trustee. He owed 

vou a large sum. i , n 

" R.UTH. Owed mej He never borrowed a dollar 

of me in his life. 

Betsy. No he didn't borrow it— ^he took it! 

Ruth (Greatly surprised) Betsy! 

Betsy. Ask Ned. (Ruth looks at Fellows) 

Fellov;s. It's true. 

Ruth. Oh it can't be— it can't be true— Oh, i 
can't believe it. (Turning to Fellows) Are you 
sure there's no mistake? 



98 THE RAINBOW 

Fellows. Certain. 

T<UTH. Then — but I never missed the money — 
why wasn't I told? Where's the money been com-^ 
ing from? Where — ? 

Betsy. Ruth dear, please don't make it any 
harder for me than it has to be. I'll tell you every- 
thing, everything, if you'll let me. 

Ruth. All right, dear, go on please. 

Betsy. There then was a time after Dick went 
West when you invested in some mines that he was 
interested in. 

Ruth.. Yes, yes, of course — he said it would 
help him and— I w^anted to help him — don't you 
see? 

Betsy. Yes, I know, dear; of course you did. 
But, unfortunately — they — they weren't very good 
mines. 

Ruth. And the money's gone — is that it? 

Betsy. Yes — that's it. 

Ruth. Oh, poor old Dick 

(Fellow^s rises and turns disgustedly.) 

Fellows. {Under his breath) Poor Old Hell! 

Ruth. (Mistaking Fello\vs' attitude to be one 
of sympathy) And he asked you to come and tell 
me? 

Fellows. Well no, not exactly. 

Ruth. How long have you known about the 
mines ? 

Fellows. Nearly a year. 

Ruth. Nonsense. (Rising) Why, I've been 
getting these dividend checks all the time. 

Betsy. (Rises) Yes dear, from Ned. 

Ruth. But how — why — I can't understand it at 
all. Ruined properties don't go on paying divi- 
dends, do they? 

Fellow^s. Not as a rule. 



THE RAINBOW 99 

Betsy. No, dear, no they don't. 

RuTii (7 Wn^ ^a Fellows) Then, wheies 
the money been commg from? {He turns away 
i^omher-she looks to Betsy who avo^ds her ,a.e 
and slowly begins to realize the truth) Not-not- 
Neil ! ! 

S' iTsttTIo Betsy) Neil! {Pause) hook 
here, Ned^I've got to get this straight. \ ou re ab- 
solutely sure there's no mistake. 
Fellows. I wish there were. 
Ruth Then all this money, even the money i 
gave Dick-to put in his mines-it wasn't my own 

at all? _ , ., 

Fellows. Not— not much of it. 

Ruth (Fellows tur7ts away with a gesture o] 
assent) ' And you knew it all the time ? Why didn t 

you tell me? ^ -^^ -, r v. j u 

Fellows. Flow could I? Neil forbade it^ 
Ruth And now Fve nothing to give my darlmg 
and Fve given her nothing all these years. It s all 
been his— his ! (Fellows turns away as Ruth 

chokes down a sob) u k ^ K^r^ii<;p 

Betsy. Dearest— you must be brave, because 

soon he's coming. , . 

Ruth No, no, Betsy, T couldn't meet him now 
-that's the worst of it. Oh, Betsy darlmg. It 
hurts-it hurts. {Exits into the house. Betsy 
goes up with her and stands on platform zvatchmg 

her off) _ 1 . , 

Betsy Poor Ruth ! Poor thing ! 

Fellows. Yes, yes, well there's only one good 
thing about the whole confounded business. It s 
of? my chest, at least. 

Betsy Well, I can tell you one thing. Its a 
long way from being oflf mine— I'm begmnmg to 
think we've made a mistake. 



loo THE RAINBOW 

Fellows. And there's another thing. Neil 
doesn't know that any of you ladies are here. 

Betsy. What ? 

Fellows. No. I wired him simply to come to 
the Villa Marchese. 

Betsy. But 

Fellows. I was afraid he wouldn't come — if I 
told him. 

{Enter Therese, standing up by the door, and Gil- 
more who comes immediately down the steps.) 

Therese. Monsieur Gilmore ! (As Fellows 
sees Gilmore he goes to meet him with great de- 
light. Therese retires zvhen Gilmore passes her) 

Fellows. Ah, Mr. Gilmore, glad to see you. 
So you had no trouble in finding the place? 

Gilmore. None, thanks. Everybody knew the 
Villa Marchese. 

Fellows. Good — good — I was afraid perhaps 
you might — (Turns to Betsy) Miss Sumner, al- 
low me to present Mr. John Carpenter Gilmore, our 
American Consul at Lvgns. 

Betsy. How do you*do, Mr. Gilmore? 

Gilmore. Delighted to mee you, ma'am, de- 
lighted. 

Fellows. Well, you're here before Mr. Sumner, 
you see! 

Gilmore. Hasn't come yet, eh? 

Fellows. (Taking out his zvatch) No, not yet. 

Gilmore. Well, I haven't any time-clock to 
punch. That's the best thing about this Consul job. 
You're a long way from your boss. Of course, 
Miss Sumner knows why I am here. 

Betsy. Oh, yes. (Sitting r. of table and invit- 
ing Gilmore to be seated) 

Gilmore, (Seated) I am going to wave the 



THE RAINBOW loi 

Stars and Stripes awhile and then I'm going to 
make a regular Fourth of July oration, beginning 
with my '"Fellow Citizens" — and ending with — er — 

Betsy. And ending with nervous prostration — 

GiLMORE. Maybe so, ma'am, maybe so. Well, 
being under orders from the Department to convey 
to Mr. Sumner its distinguished appreciation, et 
cetera, et cetera, et cetera — I'm going to do all I 
threatened. 

Betsy. As bad as that. 

GiLMORE. And if somebody don't stop me, I'm 
liable to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" before 
I'm through. 

Betsy. Don't be alarmed. Somebody'U stop 
you. 

GiEMORE. The worst of it is, I'm blamed if I 
think I can remember my speech. Never made a 
speech in my life. Hatchets are my line. 

Fellows and Betsy. Hatchets? 

GiLMORE. Yes, siree. Before I took this Consul 
job, I guess I had about the best little hatchet fac- 
tory ever built in South Braintree, Mass. But the 
hatchet trust bought me out and so 

Betsy. And so you hurried the hatchet ? 

GiLMORE. Very good, ma'am, ver\^ good. Then 
I moved on to foreign parts. I asked for a Consul- 
ship in England, but following on old custom, the 
State Department sent me to France, because I 
can't speak French. 

Betsy. I see ; it helps you to keep out of trouble. 
Is that it? 

GiLMORE. That's the idea, ma'am, the very idea. 

(Sumner appears hi doorzvay — and is first seen by 
Fellows.) 
Fellows. Neil ! 
Bptsy. (Rising joyfully) Neil! 



I02 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. Betsy! Why I had no idea! I thought 
you were in Paris ! 

Betsy. Ned told me you were coming! 

Neil. And Ruth and Cynthia ! (Betsy nods in 
assent) 

f^ELLOws. Neil, old man, how are you? 

Neil. And you, Ned? (Shaking hands) 

Fellows. Splendid ! Splendid ! But oh, Neil, 
allow me, this is Mr. John Carpenter Gilmore, our 
American Consul at Lyons. 

Neil. Mr. Gilmore? 

Gilmore. Honored, sir, I am sure. Highly hon- 
ored ! 

Fellows. Mr. Gilmore is here especially to see 
you. 

Neil. (Surprised) Me? 

Gilmore. Yes, Mr. Sumner, on behalf of the 
State Department at Washington. (A little im- 
portant) 

Neil. Nonsense ! 

Gilmore. Mr. Sumner, sir. (Realizes he is 
about to make a speech, turns to Fellows a little 
hesitatingly — giving his hat to Fellows to hold) 
Here comes that blanked speech, now, I guess. 
(Turns up, stands l. of table) Mr. Sumner, sir, 
I am tmder instructions from the State Department 
at Washington to express personally to you, sir, its 
hearty appreciation of the distinguished service ren- 
dered by you and the men of your crew to the 
American Consul at Cosa Bella, Costa Rica, on the 
19th day of March last on the occasion of an up- 
rising when the life of said Consul was imperiled 
and the property of the Consulate placed in jeo- 
pardy by — ah — an incipient rebellion. I am 

Neil. (Smiling) Nonsense — why- 



Gtlmore. In the name of our glorious count 



rv 



THE RAINBOW 103 

dont' stop me or I'll never get going again. Where 
was I ? 

Betsy. Incipient rebellion — 

GiLMORE. Madam, I thank you. Ah — er — oh, 
yes, the ah — Department understands sir, that you 
took your crew ashore and at the risk of your 
own personal safety subdued the malcontents, res- 
cued the American Consul, and reduced the rebels 
to a condition — of ah — to a state of I should say — 
of — er — innocuous desuetude. (Looks proudly 
about for applause) For which distinguished ser- 
vice the Department hereby expresses its profound 
appreciation and — ah— gratitude. And oh — speak- 
ing as I do in behalf of the Department, ah — er — 
(Forgets his lines) Speaking as I do in behalf — 
er — that is to say, speaking — blame it all, I knew 
I'd forget it. Here — (Hands Neil a huge, heavilv 
sealed docnment) I'm ordered to give you this. 

Betsy. Oh, Neil, we're so proud of you. 

Neil. But I tell you it's the most utter nonsense. 

GiLMORE. Ah, sir, you are too modest. 

Neil. But this thing was a joke, I tell you. 
A handful of town loafers go on a spree, steal a 
few rusty muskets and half a dozen broken swords, 
smash a few of the Consulate windows, and now, 
lo and behold it's a full-fledged rebellion ! 

Betsy. I won't have you talk so, Neil. You 
know it was perfectly splendid of you. 

Fellows. You ought to have seen the papers, 
Neil. 

Neil. But the thing's ridiculous. I tell vou I've 
seen a better fisrht at a football game. 

GiLMORE. Your sentiments do vou credit, Mr. 
Sumner, but it won't go down. The Department's 
information is very complete. 

Betsy. (Triumphantly) There — you see! 



IQ4 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. But it's quite too absurd — they ran like 
rabbits. Why, I laughed till I cried. 

GiLMORE. Didn't you threaten to bombard the 
town ? 

Neil. Yes — with the yacht's saluting cannon — 
about as big as my arm — and nothing in it but 
powder — and they quit like sheep. Why the 
whole thing was just a lark. 

Betsy. Oh Neil, I think it's just too bad of you. 

GiLMORE. My dear Miss Sumner, 'twas ever 
thus. Selp-depreciation is ever the hall-mark of 
your true hero. {Taking out his watch and turning 
to shake hands with Fellows) Well, I must be 
off. 

Betsy. Mayn't we offer you some refreshment 
before you go? 

GiLMORE. Madam, I thank you, but there's a 
train I can just about make if I hustle, and it's 
quite important that I reach home tonight. {Shak- 
ing hands with her) 

Neil. Ah — business of State, I suppose? 

GiLMORE. Yes siree — the married state — my 
w^ife! Well, sir, it has been a real honor, and a 
genuine pleasure to meet you. {Shaking hands 
with Neil) 

Neil. Thank you. 

Gilmore. And if you'll allow me, I'll send you 
a copy of the speech I would have made if I 
could have remembered it. It's not so bad. 

Neil. The undelivered speeches are alwavs the 
best. 

GiLMORE. Well, good-bye folks. {Turning on 
the steps) and once more in the name of our glori- 
ous country — where's my hat? (Fellows who has 
been holding the hat unconsciously passes it to 
Betsy, 7vho passes if to Neil, zirho passes it to Gil- 



THE RAINBOW 105 

more) Well, folks, good-bye, good-bye, good-bye ! 
(Exits into the house) 

Neil. Well, Ned, what does this all mean ? 

Fellows. My dear fellow, I know you're en- 
titled to all sorts of explanations, and you shall 
have them, all in good time. 

(Cynthia enters at rear, rimmng doivn to Neil.) 

Cynthia. Daddy ! Oh, Daddy ! 

Neil. Cynthia ! Bless your little heart ! 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy! Daddy! I thought you 
were never coming. Why didn't you 

Neil. Hush, hush, hush ! Well, Ned ! 

Fellows. Well, it's rather an awkward thing to 
explain just at the moment. 

Betsy. Cynthia, dear, don't you think you might 



Cynthia. No, I don't. I won't either. I won't 
let him out of my sight. Do you think I've for- 
gotten the last time I left him? {She is unable to 
go on) 

Betsy. Come, Ned. 

Fellows. {Going) We won't be far away when 
you want us. {They go off l.) 

Neil. {His arms again about her) M}^ little 
maid — quite grown up. 

Cyntliia. Do you love me still, daddy? 

Neil. Ah ma cherie, je t'aime, je t'aime. 

Cynthia. Oh you remembered — you remem- 
bered 

Neil. Je t'adore. 

Cynthia. With— with all your heart? 

Neil. De tout mon coeur. {She slips into Ms 
arms again) 

Cynthia. But, daddy, dear, I couldn't under- 



io6 THE RAINBOW 

stand — I couldn't see — why — why you didn't come 
to say good-bye ? 

Neil. Did you want me to break my heart 
twice ? 

Cynthia, Ah then — then all the time, that day 
I left you in the thunder storm — you — you knew 
all the time that I wasn't coming back any more ? 

Neil. Yes, dearest, I knew. 

Cynthia. {She realizes at once the pity of his 
position. A new wave of tenderness sweeps over 
her. She looks towards the house and then turns 
back to Neil) Don't you think you might tell me? 

Neil. Tell you what, dearest? 

Cynthia. What it all means? 

Neil. No, dear, I couldn't — not now. 

Cynthia. Not when I'm quite grown up? {He 
shakes his head. She sits r. of table) And how are 
all my pretty flowers — oh, but you don't know, do 
you? 

Neil. {Sitting opposite to her) Oh, yes. Ben- 
nett writes that your garden is in splendid shape, 
that the roses wnll be blooming within a month. 

Cynthia. Oh, daddy, shan't I — shan't I ever 
see them again? 

(Sumner, sharply stricken, rises and turns away.) 

Neil. {Thickly) I'll ring Ned Fellows' neck 
for this. 

Cynthia. {Rising) Oh — to think I'd forgotten 
it! 

Neil. {Turns to her) Eh! 

Cynthia. I've got something to tell you — about 
me — something ver-ee important. 

Neil. What can it be? 

Cynthia. {Very shyly) Haven't they told you ? 

Neil Not a word. 



THE RAINBOW 107 

Cynthia. Lean down your ear, I want to whis- 
per it. {He bends over her, she whispers in his 
ear) 

Neil. (He raises his head slowly then, placing 
his hand under her chin raising her face gently) 
So soon ! 

Cynthia. (.Inxioidy) Aren't you — aren't you 
glad ? 

Neil. (After a pause) What's his name:* 

Cynthia. His name is 

Neil. Stop ! Don't you dare tell me it's Ly- 
sander ! 

Cynthia. You remembered that, too ; no, it isn't 
Lvsander. It's Arthur — Arthur Quincy Graham. 

Neil. Arthur Graham — yes, I remember him— 
I've known his people all my life. And to think 

Cynthia. Oh, don't you like him? Because, 
because if you don't. I won't m^trry him at all. 
I've told him so. (Delighted for an instant at her 
own power) And oh, he's so frightened. Oh, do 
— do like him, daddy dear, you must! You must! 
(Taking his arm and shaking it vigorously) 

Neil. (Turning to her) Do you love him very 
much? (Cynthia looks at him shyly, then buries 
her face on his breast) Of course, he's not fit to 
tie your blessed shoe-strings, but, he's a splendid 
fellow all the same. 

Cynthia. (Breaking away delightedly) Oh, 
daddy, could you — will you see him, and — and, tell 
him it's all ris^ht? He's awfully nei*vous ! 

Neil. A little later, dear. T — I must get used 
to it all first. 

Cynthia. (Goes up and looks off along the shore 
line) He — he usually comes along- about this time 
of day. He's on a holiday from the Embassy, you 
-know, and perhaps he's in sight 



io8 THE RAINBOW 

Neil. (Playfully) Perhaps! Of course he is, 
confound him ! 

Cynthia. Yes — there he is — just coming round 
the chff. (She waves her handkerchief) No — he 
doesn't see me yet — oh daddy, do come and look ! 
{He stands beside her) See! There! (Pointing 

off) 

Neil. Goodness! Isn't he handsome." 

Cynthia. (Turning to him, reproachfidly) Oh! 
A half a mile away! Now daddy, you're teasing 
me! (They start down as Ruth enters from house 
and comes down the steps) 

Neil. No, dear, I'm not teasing you. 

Cynthia. Yes, you are, daddy. Yes, you are! 
(Cynthia sees her mother and rushes to her, and 
takes her hands in a tumult of delight, now be- 
tween Ruth and Neil) Oh, mother, dear ! Daddv 
says it's all right! Isn't it splendid! Isn't it? (She 
stops, transfixed by the look her father and mother 
exchange. She turns and looks at her father, and 
then back to her mother) 

Ruth. (Tenderly) Perhaps 3^ou-d better leave 
us, dear. (Cynthia kisses her mother. Goes to 
Neil. He puts his arms about, lets her go and 
she goes out at rear) 

Neil. (As she goes) It's all right, my little 
maid, it's all right! (Coming down c") And so 
before very long our little maid is going to leave 
you, too ! 

Ruth. Yes. 

Neil. When that time comes, I am afraid vou 
will be rather lonely. 

Ruth. Yes— I don't know quite how I shall 
get on vv ithout her ! 

Neil. Oh! I know what it is. I know! 

Ruth. (Sitting) Neil, there are things to be 
settled between us. 



THK RAINBOW 109 

Neil. (Sitting l. of table) There are indeed ! 

Ruth. I mean about the money. 

Neil. Money ? What money ? 

Ruth. Your money that I thou^^ht was mine. 

Neil. He has told you? Ned has told you? 

Ruth. No, not Ned! 

Neil. It must have been Ned, no one else knew. 

Ruth. It makes no difference. 

Neil. Well, I hope you're going to be sensible 
about it. I hope you won't let it make any diff- 
erence ! 

Ruth. Not make any difference? Neil do you 
think I have no pride? 

Neil. No, Ruth, I never thought that. 

Ruth. Oh, Neil, you had no right to treat me 
like a child. You had no right to keep me in the 
dark. Oh, it wasn't fair, it wasn't kind. 

Neil. It was kindly meant. 

Ruth. But to let me go on all these years, think- 
ing myself independent, only to find out at last, that 
I have been living on your charity. 

Neil. Ruth ! 

Ruth. And now just when I had planned to do 
something for my darling, something that she would 
never, never forget, now I find that I have nothing 
whatever to give her, nothing in all the world. 

Neil. You can give her everything I have. 

Ruth. And it would still be yours ! 

Neil. No, no, that's not true, it would be yours. 
Long before there was any blessed Cynthia, to bind 
us together, I gave you all I had in the world. You 
gave it back to me. But I have never taken it — 
never. 

Ruth. (Turning from him) Oh, please, please f 

Neil. Listen Ruth, for it may be the last time 
I shall ever speak to 3^ou. You may have heard 
that sometimes when a man is drowr.ing, his whole 



no THE RAINBOW 

life Avill pass before him in swift review. I feel 
something Hke that drowning man. Do you remem- 
ber a September night on a certain moonhght cUf f ? 
I am sure you do. That is where it all began, and 
you must remember, too, the many very happy years 
that followed. Until one day, I broke a promise 
that I had made to you. There followed on its heels 
something very near a tragedy. There was a scan- 
dal. The town rang wath it, people talked and 
gossiped, it stung you to the quick ! You nursed 
your grievance, you fed your pride upon your in- 
jury until your pride grew bigger than 3^our love, 
and then you sentenced me to banishment. That 
was wrong, but in my turn I too, nursed my pride 
and held my tongue. As the days went by I tried 
to fill my life with other things to nelp me to for- 
get. All sorts of things, foolish I admit, but remem- 
ber — I had nothing left me but my pride. And you ! 
Well, you had Cynthia I What I should have done 
was to have given you no rest until I had shown 
you the terrible price we were paying for our pride ! 
Our pride! And what's it mean to you and me 
today ? This pride for which we sacrificed so much ! 
Well, one day when my life was empty and my 
heart seemed d^ad, our little maid came back into 
them both and filled them, with all the beauty of 
her blessed love and youth, with all the poignant 
quality of her tender innocence and with memories 
of the wife and mother who gave her to me. and 
then in a moment you took them all away. 

Ruth. (Rising, much affected) Neil, I — only 
meant 

Neil. (Rising also) No. no, T don't reproach 
you, but something so big, so true and fine had 
come into my heart, that when it went away it 
left an emptiness that nothing else could fill. T 
had known the substance of life; how could I 



THE RAINBOW iii 

go back to the shadow ? I didn't ! And though my 
heart is empty still, I promise you, shouM you come 
back into it, you'll find it safer, yes, and cleaner 
too, than it has ever been before. Listen, dear. I 
am standing at the crest of the hill. The years of 
a man's life are numbered. Soon I must turn my 
back to the sunshine and my feet must carry me 
down the shady side, and somehow it doesn't seem 
as if I could bear it, to go — alone. {Her hack is 
turned to him and although she is affected, she does 
not see that he has come quite close) Won't you? 
{Extending his hand) Won't you? — {Pauses — 
after a pause he goes to table, takes his hat and 
goes to the steps as Cynthia comes in and meets 
him at the foot of the steps) 

Cynthia. Daddy! You're not going? 

Neil. Yes, dear, I must. 

Cynthia. {Turning to her m-other") Oh, mother, 
must he go? Can't he stay? Mother, dear you're 
crying! (Cynthia looks perplexedly from one to 
the other) Oh, what is it? What is it? I love vou 
both ! I want you both ! I can't — I can't — be happy 
without you both ! {Sinks into the chair, sobbing. 
Ruth and Neil go to her hurriedly to comfort 
her) 

Ruth. Oh Cynthia, darling, don't please don't. 

Neil. Oh don't, don't — my little maid — don't — 
{He raises her out of chair, his arm around her, 
turns to Ruth ) And I love you botii ! I want vou 
both! — I can't be happy without you both! {Ex- 
tending his hand to Ruth) Ruth — (Ruth turns to 
him. With one arm about his little maid, his other 
drazvs her mother to his breast) 

The final curtain falls. 



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